View to Heaven
by SlippedLips
Summary: The Warring States, even when a person is not on the battlefield, is Hell. Waiting for a new war to start, waiting for your beloved to return safely or dead — waiting for anything and everything. But is it possible, through this utter hellish life, to even glimpse Heaven? [TobiramaxOCxMadara]
1. Chapter 1

|Chapter 1|

Sunlight drifted in through the open curtains, sifting onto the floor, reflecting off the mirror on the wall opposite. Minutes dragged on, seconds flew by, and still the silence continued. Dust floated in the unmoving, stale air.

Outside the boudoir were two young men; the first was rather tall, easily towering over the younger male, with long dark hair and dark eyes. He had a tanned complexion and a kind face. The second man, younger by five years almost, pursed his lips. His hair was as white as snow, and his skin was just as pale; his eyes seemed to be shards of red ice.

"Shall we enter?" asked the younger male, looking inquisitively at the eldest, who shook his head. "Why not?"

"It would be improper," was all the elder brother said. He resumed thinking peacefully, patiently waiting, unlike his brother. "Tobirama, relax for now. They will not be coming for another hour yet."

"Yes, perhaps so," Tobirama cleared his throat loudly, eyeing the door. "However, things still need to be prepared—"

"And they will be," Hashirama calmly told him, a slight mischievous twinkle in his friendly eyes. "I promise you. Everything will go according to plan. That, we can all be sure of."

Tobirama sighed, leaning back against the wall before pushing himself off again. "But what if she has not woken up by then? She is meant to prepare the guest rooms, the feast. She is the hostess, after all."

Hashirama tutted him playfully. "She will, Tobirama. She will be awake and prepared by then."

Tobirama scoffed quietly. "It seems far from that, Hashirama. She still needs to open her door."

"Then do the honours for her."

Tobirama stared at him. Something wasn't right, he was certain of it. Then it clicked. "She is already awake and preparing everything, is she not?"

Hashirama laughed heartily. Smiling, he said, "She barely slept. She did most of it herself, in fact."

Tobirama sighed. "Why did you not tell me?"

"I wanted to see your expression," Hashirama admitted unabashedly. "Now I have, let us move on. I believe she has just the Great Hall to finish." Hashirama began walking down the corridor, with Tobirama lagging behind as he walked ahead. "Hurry up, Tobirama."

* * *

By the time they entered the Great Hall, they were left in awe. Lanterns hung from the ceiling in various bright colours; galas of flowers adorned the armour and swords that decorated the walls; the tables were in lines, vaguely reminding anyone who looked at them of soldiers waiting patiently in a queue; and the highest table, reserved for only the finest Shinobi of the clan, sat proudly, with polished silver plates gleaming in the intense light.

Hashirama smiled.

Tobirama looked to his left and spotted the person responsible; he called out to her, "Satomi-chan, where do you think you are going?"

Tresses of golden orange tumbled down her back, released from the ponytail she usually wore. Her amber eyes snapped up to meet his. "I should change my dress before Mito-san arrives. It would be rude not to, Tobirama-kun."

"Yes," Tobirama nodded, his crimson eyes glowing strangely. "I will let you go this time."

Satomi gave him a kind smile, rolling her eyes. "Yes, Tobirama-kun. Thank you." She was gone from sight as quickly as she had caught his eye.

Tobirama turned to Hashirama, "So?"

"So what?"

"When are you going to ask Mito-san for her hand in marriage?"

A light primrose dusted Hashirama's cheeks. "What makes you think she will say yes?"

"I have been talking about it with Satomi. She agrees – Mito-san will not turn you down. Women know how their minds work, it seems."

Hashirama laughed. "Are you confessing that you are as clueless as I am in these affairs, Tobirama?" He looked down at his younger brother.

"I am not _as_ clueless, but clueless nonetheless, yes," Tobirama said, "I admit it." He looked around the Great Hall, absorbing the sight with hungry eyes. "It seems Satomi is more feminine that first perceived." Hashirama laughed at him. "You cannot deny it – even you did not think she would manage such a feat."

"No, but I do not marvel at her work like you do. You are truly besotted with her, Tobirama."

Tobirama rolled his vermillion orbs and rested his gaze on the highest table. The biggest chair was reserved for Hashirama, as he was the clan's newly-elected leader, and the one on his right was solely for Tobirama. However, it was no secret in the clan that the seat beside Tobirama belonged to his lover: Senju Satomi.

Coughing, Hashirama awoke Tobirama from his reverie. "Mito-san will arrive shortly with her clan. Are you ready to receive our guests?"

"I believe so."

"Then stop dreaming about Satomi-san. It is inappropriate," bit out Hashirama cheekily, grinning.

Tobirama rolled his eyes, unimpressed. "Why is it unsurprising that you only acquire your cheek when faced with nerves, Hashirama?"

Hashirama laughed heartily, smiling brightly at his younger brother. Unbeknownst to them, two Shinobi stumbled down the bottom of the hallway, unsure of their whereabouts, looking around suspiciously. The first one to notice the two Senju brothers standing at the Great Hall's entrance was the younger male, who narrowed his eyes at the sight of them, in particular Tobirama.

He nudged the other man, who turned and spotted the Senju brothers immediately. At the same time, Hashirama looked over the top of Tobirama's white hair and saw them. His face broke into a friendly smile. "Hello, kinsmen, how are you feeling?" Even his voice was jovial.

Tobirama rolled his head round and squinted at the two men; both had darkish hair, nearly as dark as Hashirama's long hair, but they also had more masculine—could he say?—faces. They were both attractive men in their own right, he had to admit rather begrudgingly. They were probably only half Senju, however, because the only other Senju member he knew with a sharp face was Toka, whose mother was from outside the clan.

Before either could answer, Tobirama curtly asked, "What are your names?"

The eldest gritted his teeth momentarily. He never liked Tobirama much. "Senju Makoto, Tobirama-_sama_."

Noticing the undertone of resentment, Tobirama narrowed his eyes and nodded curtly and then stared at the younger male, who had a more relaxed posture. "And I am Senju Jiro."

Of course, both of them were lying, but due their impressive control of their chakra, Tobirama could not detect that with his sensory skills, and instead said, "Very well, then. Where—"

He was interrupted by a soft voice cooing, "Is everything all right?"

All four men turned around, greeted by a small smile resting on Satomi's painted red lips. Her eyelashes were darker and looked longer, framing and empathising the intense amber hue of her eyes. She wore an intricately-designed red kimono, with a deep navy obi. In Tobirama's eyes, she looked exquisite.

"Well?"

Tobirama cleared his throat and stepped towards her. "You look stunning, Satomi-chan." She beamed at him. He turned to face Hashirama, "I thought you had to greet the Uzumaki clan, brother."

Hashirama gave him a peculiar look. "_We_ have to, yes. Come on, stop gawking—"

"Brother!"

"—and follow me. We need to wait for them by the border. I am certain that Satomi-san will be able to manage readying the clan for us, will you not, Satomi-san?" He faced her.

She smiled politely, bowing slightly to her new leader. "Of course, Hashirama-sama."

Hashirama laughed faintly. "You may drop the –_sama_, Satomi-san. Since when I have asked you to call me by such an honorific?"

She stared at him, bemused. "I—"

"No matter," Tobirama cut in impatiently, making Satomi scowl at him for interrupting her. He sent his brother a firm look. "We need to be moving on, brother. The Uzumaki clan—"

"Yes, yes, I know."

The look Tobirama shot him told all who were present that he didn't believe his own brother's words. "Then ... can we depart now?" he asked cynically. Satomi rolled her eyes, smiling pleasantly. "_Before_ the sun rises tomorrow?"

Tobirama turned and looked at Satomi, who smiled gently at him. "Stay safe, please, Tobirama."

Both of the newcomers noted the dropping of the honorific. What surprised them more was when she raised to her tiptoes and lightly kissed his cheek, trying to not stain the whiteness with red lipstick.

Tobirama's hand clasped hers and he leaned down to whisper in her ear, "I promise I will return, just for you."

Satomi smiled ruefully. "I would hope so."

Hashirama cleared his throat, a tad embarrassed at his brother's uncharacteristically romantic gesture. Normally, Tobirama would have taken Satomi aside, to a different room even, and said something so sincere to her. But he did not. Briefly, Hashirama wondered if the presence of the two new faces had something to do with it. Most probably, seeing as Tobirama was somewhat territorial. "We need to get moving, as you kindly pointed out, brother."

Tobirama scowled at him. "Brother—"

"Tobirama, the more you argue, the longer your journey will take," pointed out Satomi quietly, facing all four men, "Just go and be back soon."

Tobirama nodded. "I will."

Satomi smiled weakly and stepped back, so that Tobirama and Hashirama could pass her. She watched them until they turned the corner and vanished. She sighed. Turning to look at the remaining two men, she asked them, "So where are your stations?"

"We were dismissed from parole, Senju-chan," piped up the youngest man. "We were serving on the east boundary."

"I hope there was no trouble there."

"There was none."

It seemed like an awkward moment had arisen because of the abrupt closure of the discussion. Finally, Satomi said, "You two should get ready for the celebrations this evening. I do not know how long the Uzumaki clan will be."

"A good idea," remarked the youngest, peering at his brother. "Do you agree?" All the elder man did was nod, not peeling his eyes away from the friendly face of Satomi. The younger man turned to her, "We will see you shortly ... ?"

She offered her hand daintily. "I am Senju Satomi, Jiro-san."

He shook her hand, smiling falsely. "A pleasure, Satomi-san." He turned to his brother, "Shall we depart now?"

"Yes."

* * *

**_Okay, just to say — I'm going by the anime version of Tobirama's eyes. I know they're dark, before anyone corrects me, but if anyone reading this has only ever watched the anime then ... well, you can guess my reasons._**

**_Also, this is purely experimental. If people don't like this story, I won't pursue it and instead will focus on my other Uchiha-Senju story. So, anyway, thanks for reading! Ciao. R&R!_**


	2. Chapter 2

| Chapter 2 |

The feast did not end even after gone midnight, when many of the Senju clan and the Uzumaki clan were drunk and unsuspecting of anything ill-natured occurring. They were not even finished celebrating the election of Hashirama as their new leader.

For Tobirama, though, the night's ending was long overdue. Fatigue pulled on his eyelids, making them droop. Once or twice he tripped over his own feet. He hadn't drank much during the feast; he had drank along with all his other kinsmen when they toasted Hashirama, and he sipped his saké as he ate his meal, but he did not drink excessively like some other members.

Satomi had retired to her chambers a little earlier, before the feast had ended, due to being on duty in the medical wards the next morning. So he went straight to his bedchamber.

Meanwhile, as Satomi stood in front of her mirror, combing her hair, a distant disturbance echoed down the hallway outside. She paused. Silence was all that could be heard. Somewhere inside her abdomen, Satomi felt uneasy. Something felt wrong.

Grabbing the closest object to her—which happened to be a small tanto—she began to make her way to her bedroom door. Opening it a crack, she peered out into the dim hallway.

Nothing was out there.

She opened the door a bit wider, straining her hearing to catch even the smallest of noises. There were none. Although nothing was seemingly happening, the uneasy feeling seemed unshakable. Opening her door entirely, letting the light from her bedchamber flood out into the hallway, Satomi stood with her tanto clutched tightly in her hand, looking around suspiciously. No one was outside.

Blinking, she soon turned around and began to step back inside her boudoir. Then it happened. That noise, a faint scuffling sound, from down the hall. It was coming from the room at the end of the hall.

Clutching her tanto even tighter, Satomi quickly shut her door, sealing away the light, and prowled down the dark hallway, using the walls as guidance. Her heart began pounding wildly. She had never been in this kind of situation; she was a medic, not a fighter. All she knew was taijutsu. Quicker than she would have liked, she reached the door. Behind the door was a room the clan used to store files of previous missions and clients; it held very sensitive information, and so it was protected by a strong seal only few knew how to break.

Yet, on the door, the seal was broken.

Satomi, had she been in her right mind at that point in time, would have sucked in a breath and re-thought her plan of action. But she was not in her right mind. Admittedly, she was a little bit tipsy and she was feeding off the adrenalin shooting around her body.

Tanto in hand, she crept inside, eyeing the room. The noise had ceased and there didn't seem to be a sign of anyone inside. But there must have been. The noises couldn't have been of her imagination, because the doorway behind her was open – and not by her doing. Someone had snuck into this room, where valuable information was kept, and was purposely hiding from her. That could only mean one thing ...

Satomi sucked in a deep breath. "TOB—"

A hand with a cloth clamped over her mouth, preventing her scream from escaping her throat. Satomi panicked and tried to kick her assailant, flailing her hands around behind in attempt to reach him. She failed.

More muffled screams were emitted, but none were loud enough to gain attention from any of her kinsmen. The hand pressed harder on her mouth, in turn making it harder for her to breathe. She tried to scream again, but to no avail. Slowly, ever so slowly, black spots started emerging in her vision. The black spots grew bigger. Before long, she had passed out.

* * *

Coming round was perhaps one of the most calming moments in Satomi's life. For some bizarre reason, her subconscious mind was nagging her becoming-conscious one that something was dreadfully wrong, but it refused to give the details as to why.

So, while she laid on the floor, her mind was divided as to what was right. She had returned to her bedchamber before the feast was finished, and she remembered it clearly. She had changed out of her celebration kimono and started her nightly routine. Nothing was out of the ordinary and so nothing could be wrong. She was obviously suffering after after-effects of a bad dream—

Wait, _the floor_?

Snapping her eyes open, Satomi detected the slight dust that had settled beside her head. She really was asleep on the floor. What had she been doing last night? She didn't drink that much.

Smaller details, like the scrolls sewn around the floor and torn parchment slowly began to come into focus as she sluggishly sat upright. The room was very dim, but the candle on the desk on the far-right of her cast enough light to illuminate the most prominent features of the room, like the towering shelves and the two men by the desk—

No wonder her father told her she would never make it as a Shinobi, with her appalling observational skills.

One of the two men saw that she was staring at them, noticing her mouth open wide enough to scream, and whipped over to her, hissing, "Scream and I'll slit your throat, Senju."

Satomi's entire body froze-up. The man smirked.

"You know," called the other man quietly, still sat at the desk, poring over a document, "you make yourself out to be the bad person, Izuna, threatening her like that. I think it is easy to see that she does not have many Shinobi qualities, therefore it is safe to say she is not one of the Senju's Shinobis."

Izuna shot the other man a look. "Just because she is not a Senju Shinobi does not make her entirely innocent. She had a tanto! Where did she get that, I wonder?"

"Perhaps from your rival as he is so besotted with her," the other man replied uncaringly. "I do not know. I do not know the ins and outs of this clan."

"But you have been friendly with them before," hissed Izuna challengingly, "A special one, in particular, if you—"

A shuriken went whizzing past Izuna's face, narrowing missing slicing his cheek. He glowered at the other man furiously. "Madara!"

"You deserved it."

Satomi clutched at her hand subconsciously, a childhood trait. Madara's eyes glanced over her hands thoughtfully, but then returned his attention to the scrolls. It seemed like the Senju would be assisting the daimyo of the Earth Country in their next battle, so the Uchiha would be up against them again.

"What should we do with her?" Izuna asked, as Madara got up from his seat, preparing to leave. "Should I kill her?"

"How badly do you want Tobirama to kill you, Izuna?" questioned Madara, genuinely concerned as to whether that was the motive for Izuna's insistence to harm the Senju woman. "By killing his lover, do you intend to anger him?"

"To show him, brother," Izuna started, "that Uchiha are stronger."

"If we are stronger," Madara started, looking Izuna in the eye, "then we needn't prove it by murder. We will be cunning. We have a valuable hostage, after all. We can bend the Senju's will however we wish, do you not think so?"

"I would rather—"

"It would hurt Tobirama's pride," Madara overruled him, "to think he could not protect someone he loved dearly. It would hurt _any_ man's pride."

Satomi stilled. Izuna shifted away from her, moving closer to Madara. Quickly, her eyes briefly flowed over the door and the obstacles in the way. Despite the fact that she wasn't actually a Shinobi, as Madara had stated, she was trained in taijutsu, sensory skills, kenjutsu, healing and speed – and speed was her best ability. As she watched Izuna read through the scroll that his brother had been studying, Satomi inched up onto her feet. Neither of the men seemed to notice. Once she was on her feet, she steadied herself, paused to watch them and then—

_Whoosh!_

"Where exactly are you going, Senju?" It was the other male, the older one. His Sharingan pierced her, delving her into a genjutsu. Her body slumped to the floor.

Izuna looked over his shoulder to see Madara scoop down and throw the Senju woman over his shoulder. "So we are taking her with us, after all."

"I told you already," Madara said, "She is a valuable hostage. Her lover is the Senju clan's leader's brother. Most of the Senju would at least know of her, so we would not be kidnapping a member of the clan who was unpopular with the rest. Do you understand?"

"I trust your judgement, brother," Izuna told him sincerely, "But I did prefer to cause Tobirama the humiliation of providing inadequate protection of his beloved."

"It's the same thing, Izuna, do not worry." Madara muttered.

Sneakily, they prowled along the halls in the shadows, remaining undetected as they stalked out of the Senju stronghold. As soon as they were far enough from the main town, they broke into a brisk sprint. Madara mulled over the information which they had newly discovered, ignoring the glances Izuna kept throwing at the unconscious woman over his shoulder, while Izuna debated whether or not he should bring up the matter of where they were going to keep her. In the end, he decided not to bother. Madara had most likely planned something without telling him – _again_.

* * *

**I just wanted to thank **_crazyuser_** for reviewing! I hope you liked Madara's appearance. **

**With that out of the way, I hope everyone else enjoyed this chapter. ;) Ciao. ~SL**


	3. Chapter 3

| Chapter 3 |

Waking up in a dingy little cell was not what Satomi expected. From now on, she wasn't going to try to be clever. The Uchiha weren't worth being knocked out.

"Well, well, well," It was the man who threatened to slit her throat. "If Satomi-chan has not finally decided to join us! How are you, a little tired?" he mocked.

Satomi pursed her lips and looked the other way, a blank wall meeting her line of vision. Izuna continued regardless, "I do not see what is so special about you. You are plain, unskilled, ordinary, too quiet ... everything a man does not need."

When he failed to rouse a response from Satomi still, Izuna added, "Tobirama would hardly miss you. Women probably threw themselves at his feet all the time; it is just a matter of selecting the right one."

Satomi snapped. Rolling over and sitting up, Satomi retorted, "How would you know? What do you know about love? The Uchiha do not have feelings!"

_Whoosh!_

Suddenly something cold and thin was pressed against her throat: the blade of a tanto. Her breath hitched in her throat. "How would a Senju know that?" crowed Izuna, his hot breath fanning the back of neck, creeping down the edge of her kimono and making her skin crawl. "You are not worth rescuing – you are worthless. Tobirama must have been fooled by genjutsu if he felt anything for you but repulsion. What man could you satisfy?"

"Izuna," Madara's voice cut through the tension like a shuriken through the air. "Let her go." Izuna heeded his command and moved back to his brother's side, peering at Satomi beadily. "Get up," he ordered Satomi. Out of fear, she did as she was told, keeping her eyes downcast like Tobirama had instructed her. "Look at me."

"I cannot."

"What was that?" barked Madara impassively. Because of the lack of emotion in his voice, Satomi couldn't tell if he was angry or curious. She hesitated a guess at the first estimate and focused on the concrete floor of the holding cell.

"I cannot look at you, Madara-san."

"And why is that?" There was an emotion creeping into his voice, one which aroused goose bumps to appear on the back of her neck even though she wasn't cold.

Satomi remained silent.

"Izuna, could you leave us, please? I think your presence intimidates her." Izuna shot Madara a look that he quite easily ignored. "You just need to stand outside for a minute."

"I will be counting," were Izuna's departing words.

Quite ironically, Satomi was now unsure whether not having Izuna in the cell with her was the most intimidating situation, or having him and the other man. At least she was not on the battlefield. She had heard stories of what men did to women they came across lying in the dirt, defenceless and weakened. Then again, what was she? Alone, unarmed, in a cell with an unknown male – he could be anyone, do anything.

She gasped.

"I do not take to being ignored very lightly," murmured Madara into her ear, his chest inches away from her flushing face. "You would be in a better position if you cooperated with me and my brother. Do you understand? Now, look up."

"I-I—"

"I do not have a lot of patience, Senju," Madara told her firmly, although he didn't sound annoyed. "Look at my face."

Swallowing a lump in her throat, Satomi dared to peek at him; she caught black eyes and black hair, nothing defined. She looked down again quickly, observing Madara's chest quiver as he chuckled.

"You are quite shy," he noted light-handedly. "I have not got my Sharingan activated, so you are quite safe. Just look."

But Satomi didn't want to look. She was scared, unused to such a situation, clueless. Stealthily, Madara hooked a pale, slender finger under her chin and pulled her face upwards, forcing her to meet his gaze. However, she squeezed her eyes tightly shut.

Then the door shifted open, followed by Izuna calling, "Your minute is up."

"Wait outside," instructed Madara, not removing his hand from under Satomi's chin, nor looking over his shoulder at his brother.

"Why?"

"Simple: she talks when you are not here." Madara responded nonchalantly, as though talking to a petulant child about something as trivial as not reading a bedtime story for one night. "So, in order to aid our investigations, I ask you to please leave, Izuna."

"How ironic."

"Is it not?" derided Madara, keeping his eyes fixed on Satomi, "Now, vacate."

Scoffing and mumbling a comment that earned him a "_now!_" from Madara, Uchiha Izuna departed from the cell and when the door slammed shut behind him, Madara's full attention was directed entirely upon Satomi. With his finger looped under her chin, he could feel her quivering feebly. No, she was not a Shinobi. She was a civilian, most probably naive to the ways of war – but she would learn. She was their hostage, the leverage needed to bend Tobirama, and later his brother and his clan. War was in the Senju and the Uchiha's blood, the blood of brothers. Given time, she would learn the art of war.

"Look at me," he murmured softly, his breath brushing across the skin on her face, whispering against her lips and eyelids. "Open your eyes and look. My Sharingan is deactivated."

"How can I trust you?"

Her reply was in such hushed tones, he almost missed it. "I cannot give you proof to trust me when your eyes are closed. Open them and you will see."

Surveying her every move, from the downward tug of her pursed lips to the little dents in her smooth brow as she squeezed her eyes tighter, he waited – he waited until the eyelids fluttered open and captivating amber met inexpressive obsidian black. The space between Satomi's lips widened a little bit. She stared, captivated, into his fathomless eyes; it was the closest she had ever been to an enemy, never mind an Uchiha.

"Do you understand now? My intention is not to harm you."

"But to utilise my connections within my own clan?" countered Satomi almost silently. Madara's lips thinned. "The Elders might not allow a rescue mission to take place or even a deal to be made, Madara-san. You would have gone through the trouble for a result you thought valuable but in the end be the opposite – worthless."

"Tobirama will come for you," His voice held confidence, bordering on arrogance. "Otherwise you are as good as dead."

"As good as dead?" Satomi didn't fail to pick up on the lack of her definite demise. If Tobirama failed to rescue her, she would be dead, would she not? Izuna would see to it especially.

"I may not kill you immediately," Madara's eyes glinted like a sword caught in the light. "I could simply hand you over to my men as entertainment."

Her stomach tied itself into knots and she felt rather sick all of a sudden. Madara must have seen the dread in her eyes because he smirked sadistically and muttered, almost smugly, "You better pray that your lover truly loves you, Senju. The alternative is far from forgiving."

Then he dropped his hand, as though her mere skin had burnt him, and moved away. With his back facing her, he called, "Izuna, will you open the door?"

The door opened and Madara disappeared through it. That was last Satomi thought she would see of him, as two guards shifted outside her door, closing it after him.

* * *

On the grey stone wall, to the right of her, hung a cloth with the Uchiha symbol emblazoned into the fabric, almost mocking her, while to her left, a small square of stone was cut out, allowing few precious rays of sunlight into her prison. Ahead of her bed was the prison door, with a guard each side.

Apparently the hall that led away from the cells was directly in front of her cell, as she often heard the Uchiha dragging a new inmate or an old one in by. Most of the time, the prisoners were screaming for death. Satomi wondered vaguely when she would reach that point, the point where death was preferable, but she failed to reach an answer. So far, she had been left alone and untouched, although not entirely unseen. Hours after Madara and Izuna had finally left, one of the guards made a—err, impious?—comment aimed at her. She had tensed and flustered and since then, she has been facing the wall opposite the door.

At present, there was no light sidling into her cell. Well, should she call it hers? Claiming the cell made it sound she was making a home there. No, the cell was not _hers_ per se – it was her prison, her incarceration, her confinement from everything she knew, but _not_ _hers_. She was not going to stay here, nor was she going to allow Tobirama to jeopardise himself for her sake; she had to escape.

There were no sounds either. Everything was shrouded in darkness, like she was entombed by these four unmovable walls, and not even a mouse scurried across the cold stone floor. Nothing but black evaded her vision. She could not even make out the outlines of the floor from the bed she was lying on. Her eyelids drooped, heavy with sleep.

She didn't want to fall asleep, though.

If she fell asleep, it would mean that this cell—the confining, suffocating cell that was _not_ hers—was real. Her _imprisonment_ was real. And she did not want that reality – she wanted comfort, familiarity and ... she didn't dare think of it. The word departed, scarcely formed, from her drowsy mind.

It had been years ... almost twelve ... since she last saw ... since ...

Sluggishly, her eyelids closed.

* * *

A cough, followed by a rasp of indecipherable mutterings, woke her the following morning. Well, she should say daybreak as light was only faintly breaking through the square glassless window.

Stiff-backed, Satomi yawned and stretched her arms above her head, sore. Reality didn't set in as swiftly as she had imagined. At first it took her a moment to even recognise what her surroundings were and when she did, her shoulders sagged. She was still captive. The threat of 'entertaining' Uchiha Shinobi still loomed upon her in the same way that an axe loitered above the condemned's head. But she couldn't allow Tobirama to seek a deal. She didn't know how the Uchiha worked, but she could guess and she wasn't going to allow it to happen.

Suddenly Satomi stopped rustling her bed sheets. Footsteps echoed down the hallway and the guards outside shifted. Someone was coming. Someone authoritative, because those with authority seemed to be more relaxed in their posture and walk. She realised that when dealing with Hashirama so frequently. The shuffling of the guards indicated that whoever was coming was intimidating, thus most likely to be powerful. The Uchiha clan's leader, maybe?

The footsteps grew louder and then began to fade, as the person headed to the right of Satomi's cell. Outside the guards breathed a sigh of relief. And then there was screaming. Screaming that bounced down to her— no, the cell she was contained in, coming from the right passage.

With the screaming playing on her nerves, as she was unused to hearing such agonised shrieks even on the medical ward, Satomi hid under the covers, pressing the pillow over her head, desperately trying to ignore the screaming. She didn't want to hear it. She didn't want to know what being a prisoner entailed. She didn't want to know _war_. That's what it came down to at the end of the day. The deaths, the causalities, they were the result of the constant war that was happening around them.

The screaming continued for what felt like hours, but may have only been _one_ hour. There wasn't any kind of time-keeping device in the cell. The closest kind was the sunlight through the window.

In attempt to distract her mind from the current situation, Satomi went back to memorising her boudoir; from the mirror to the ornaments resting on her shelf, to the insignia of the Senju clan that adorned the room above her bed and the portrait that hung beside her mirror, reminding her of the times she had with— no, she couldn't go that far. If she dug up the memories, then she would be forced to relive them. No, it was best that she left them untouched. Out of sight, out of mind – that is what they said, is it not?

* * *

**All right, then, there's another chapter up! Yay! :) I hope you like it, peeps. Also, thanks to the **Guest** who reviewed and—of course—**_xGuiltyXGigglesx03**. **_**Thank you very, very much! **


	4. Chapter 4

| Chapter 4 |

The simplest thing was to accept the proposal, but she felt like if she agreed, then her position would be less secure. No lock on her door to stop unwanted people intruding upon her, to keep herself safe from these people. She had heard the stories; she was not a fool.

"I apologise, Madara-san," she started, but he silenced her with a single finger touching her lips.

"You _will_ accept."

There was no room for questioning in his voice, in his steady gaze or in his gestures. She would take the room without complaint, comply without being difficult. She was not in a position to decline. He was only reminding her of the naked truth, despite his apathetic expression and unrevealing tone.

Satomi deflated slightly, seeing no excuse to deny his request—or rather, order—and looked away, defeated. Sighing wordlessly, she nodded once. Apparently, the Uchiha did not have _no_ in their vocabulary. Madara said nothing else and retreated from the cell. She still refused to call it _hers_. No matter how infantile it seemed, she point-blank rebuffed the idea to even acknowledge the holding cell as a place she could even briefly call _hers_.

The door slammed shut, knocking her out of her reverie. At least she was not unconscious, she mused acrimoniously. It was a sign of things beginning to come under her control, although she had no encouraging evidence to prove so, she believed she could control her situation from this point. She had no other choice.

Verboseness did not seem to be part of the Uchiha lifestyle. Not even the guards outside seemed to talk very much; they were mostly silent. When they did speak, it was for a purpose. Words were not wasted. Apparently words had a much greater value than emotions, which seemingly accounted for very little in this peculiar clan. Satomi had yet to see an Uchiha show an honest expression. The Uchiha were very unlike the Senju.

Musing to herself seemed to pass time quicker than living in her memories. The screaming that she first heard a few days ago—or was it weeks now?—had reoccurred the following day, and the day after that, and the day after that. Torture seemed to be inevitable. Perhaps agreeing to his proposal was a good idea. Then again, there was one little detail that remained missing.

What was Madara's position in the clan?

He could not have been any older than Hashirama, from what she had perceived. Snippets of conversation echoed faintly in her mind, anything that connected the name _Madara_ with _Uchiha_. All she could recall was that he had the equal power of Hashirama in his clan. Did that mean he was the leader? It would be hypocritical to say that he was too young if he was the same age as Hashirama. Then that would mean she had been addressing him wrong, calling him –_san_ instead of –_sama_.

* * *

_She could have screamed. She could have shouted, cried and otherwise yelled her heart out at the audacity of the idea. _

_"Papa," She turned to her father, his battle-hardened face softening as she scowled, pouting indignantly. "Why can I not protect the clan too? Why is Masayuki allowed and not me?" whined Satomi, her round face scrunched up in irritation._

_Senju Ryosei smiled at his daughter—his only daughter left—and told her firmly, "Your job is more important and beneficial for the clan, Satomi."_

_"But I do not wish to remain at home, I wish to protect the other women and their children!"_

_A tepid laughter vibrated through him. "You ensure the women that their husbands, sons, fathers and brothers return, Satomi. You ensure their loved ones come home – that is a wonderful job to do, is it not? You have as much influence on the clan as any fighting Shinobi, as much as Masayuki and me. You should be proud." His gaze softened as she pondered his words, weighing up the disadvantages and the rewards. "One day, you may meet a man who changes your mind about marriage, even."_

_Satomi stuck her tongue out in disgust. All Ryosei could do was laugh._

The memory of her father stayed fresh in her mind as she dragged her eyelids open. Dust was spiralling in the dreary sunlight. Now was not the time to wallow in the past. As wonderful as her father was, he was not here to protect her, no one was, and therefore she should not allow her feelings to cloud her judgement. She needed to take control of her situation. Control would not come from being overruled by her emotions.

Having slept for some time, Satomi wondered vaguely if the proposition to her clan had been made yet, when they had found their information room in disarray and what the reaction would be once they learned that she had been taken. She was not as concerned about Tobirama's reaction because she knew that he truly did care for her—unlike what Izuna perceived—but the rest of the clan worried her slightly. Some would be against making a deal with the Uchiha and would be willing for her to be sacrificed for the sake of the clan. Others might agree or they might not. She could not define every single possible reaction because she simply did not know every single member of the Senju clan.

Releasing a tense sigh, Satomi folded into herself, believing that, for now, it was best to let sleeping dogs lie rather than allow them to wake up and face the truth.

* * *

An indelicate accusation tainted his words as the second guard retorted, "And so what? Will you tell Madara-sama about it?" The door to the cell—yes, _the_ cell—was open just a crack, illumination of the lamps outside flooding through into the cell. "Come on, Nobukatsu, no one will know."

"But—"

"Are you scared of a little Senju?" The words were a taunt, a mockery for Nobukatsu, the first guard, to swallow like bait for a fish.

"You are being a fool, Takakazu. If Yanagi finds out, she will definitely tell Madara-sama—"

"Do you not control your woman, Nobukatsu? She is your property, you cannot allow her to run wild and overrule your authority – show her what her place is, if need be." Takakazu snapped, the door opening further until a clothed leg was visible. "Now watch out for me. Tell me if someone is coming."

Watching as the door slowly closed, Satomi then lifted her eyes upwards to the guard's face. Takakazu had a plain face; straight nose, black eyes, thin lips – no outstanding features. But he was not unattractive. Tobirama had told her of the Uchiha's appearance; he said that they all looked similar in the way their hair was the same inky black, sometimes with a touch of raven-blue streaked in, and their eyes—when not glaring the Sharingan at their opponents—were as dark and inexpressible as a starless night. He had accented that there was no light in their eyes, only darkness. She wondered why.

Takakazu roughly grabbed her chin and forced her out of her consuming thoughts. "Have you no manners, little Senju? Staring is very rude. You should apologise to me immediately." He was smirking contemptuously, an ugly sneer twisting his face.

"I—"

"You are very naive," he continued suddenly, interrupting her apology. "Who said anything about words? You are a woman and I am a man. What do you think I mean?"

Fear flitted through her widened eyes.

"That is correct," he snickered, smirking broadly, "But you need to be quick. If Madara-sama comes, then—"

"You will be in trouble, Takakazu," The door slammed open, revealing Izuna with his Sharingan blazing in his eyes. A frown tarnished his otherwise beautiful face. "Release the Senju and get back to your station. She will no longer be contained here."

Takakazu seemed too fearful to move and Satomi briefly questioned whether he had heard Izuna's instruction through his fear.

"_Takakazu_," warned Izuna lowly.

Knowing that he was already in trouble, Takakazu fled the holding cell. Izuna remained by the door, raising an eyebrow at Satomi who seemed rooted to the spot. Her wide eyes stared unseeingly at him. He sighed, dropping his frown. Madara was right; she was not a Shinobi in the slightest sense of the word. She was polite, addressing every Uchiha she met as 'Uchiha-san', but she did it out of politeness and not respect.

"Satomi," She looked even more shocked when he called her name without any malice or cruel teasing. He could not help but smirk slightly. He liked surprising her; she was amusing. "Get up. My brother wants you in your quarters so he can tell you the rules."

She nodded, her expression oddly blank all of a sudden.

"Are you not going to say something?"

"Such as what?"

"That will do," Izuna waved her comment off and hassled her up from the floor before clasping her thin wrist. "Stick with me and you will not lose yourself in our stronghold."

"Yes, Izuna-san."

An inane little smirk tugged at one corner of Izuna's lips. "My, you are so demure. And it is Izuna-_sama_, not –_san_."

"My apologises, Izuna-sama," Satomi added a little bow at the end, in mark of respect for his position above her and most of his clansmen.

Rolling his eyes at her intense obedience, Izuna fell quiet and led Satomi out of the holding cells and up the narrow corridor leading away from that area of the stronghold. For minutes neither of them said anything to the other, yet Izuna still kept his diminutive smirk scrawled across his face as though taunting Satomi. Unexpectedly, a knowing look ebbed into his black eyes.

"We have arrived," With a flourish of his hand, he presented Satomi with an open door. Looking in she saw that Madara was standing at the window with his back to them. His long fingers coiled around his wrist, behind his back.

"Finally," he breathed quietly.

Izuna puffed his chest out, crossing his arms, vaguely remind Satomi of Tobirama. "Brother, I would appreciate it if you stopped treating me like the child I once was and as the adult I am now. You are not that much older than me."

"Izuna, this argument was won a long time ago," Madara's head faced Izuna whilst his body remained directed at the window. "Now, please, leave us be."

"Why should I? She is the enemy—"

"She is not a Shinobi," cut in Madara firmly, looking out of the window again. His voice softened, "And as I said before, she speaks when you are not present."

Izuna's posture became lax. "Fine, I will wait outside, just in case." Madara did not disagree with him and let him leave peacefully. A couple minutes after Izuna's exit, they still had yet to say something to one another. "You are not talking!" crowed Izuna, his voice muffled by the wood of the door.

Satomi suppressed the urge to giggle, covering her mouth with her hand.

Beside the window, Madara beckoned her forward. She complied, with her head tilted downwards and minding her way around the polished table at the centre of the room. Once directly behind him, Satomi held her breath. She was not sure of his intentions, after all. If she was a prisoner, she would surely stay in that repulsive holding cell, would she not?

"The Senju Elders refuse to negotiate a deal between the Senju and Uchiha for your return," he announced, staring calmly at the sea of stars adorning the night sky, "However, Hashirama has pleaded with me to wait. We have called a temporary truce for the time being. You must mean very much to him." He paused and Satomi was unsure of whether he expected an answer from her. Before she could part her lips to speak, he continued, "In accordance with the truce, you must not be harmed. I am a man of my word as much as Hashirama is, so to ensure your personal safety, you will be situated here, in this room. The reason is simple: it is adjoined to my own chamber. If anything happens, you are to come into my bedroom, and wake me if it is night. Do you understand?"

His hair rustled quietly as he peeked over his shoulder, looking down at her as she nodded her head mutely. "Yes, Madara-sama."

He could not suppress the smirk that jerked his lips. "So you have finally discovered the right honorific. Well done."

Satomi flushed in embarrassment. "I am—"

"Do not apologise," Oddly enough, Madara had spoken softly to her. "You will be in our care for possibly a long while. Apologising is seen as a weakness. Do not do it." With that hanging in the air, Madara strode out of the room, the door clicking shut behind him. With the door shut, she allowed her true emotions to come out into the open.

* * *

**Hi ya! Just wanted to say a big, big _thank you!_ to **_Blink-Dream_**, **_that0nelittl3girl_**, **_Guest_** and my darling little Libra buddy! Thank so much for your reviews! :) You make me so happy!**


	5. Chapter 5

| Chapter 5 |

Incandescent in the feeble moonlight, clad in only the white long-sleeved slip that had been provided for her, Satomi kneeled in front of the window. Her ashen lips moved noiselessly, mumbling words that would not find ears to fall upon, wishing, with her hands clutching each other, that what was reality was in fact a wild dream she had concocted. Whenever she cracked open her eyes, however, the same scene swam into her vision. The same dark-coloured drapes, the Uchiha clan insignia, everything. She was not home. She was not in the company of friendly and familiar faces. She was alone.

The curtains were not drawn for one mere reason: she liked to study the night sky. From the darkening corners, the streaks of navy amongst the pronounced blackness, the twinkling of diminutive silver stars that were so far away – it reminded her of a time in her life in which she was content and surrounded with people she adored.

Ever since her father's death, her family unit had dwindled dramatically. Once upon a time she had actually had two elder sisters, but over time both had died in battle, henceforth why her father refused her the opportunity to become a Shinobi. He trained her in taijutsu and kenjutsu, but allowed nothing else and she was barred from having any other tutor. Both of his sons had died, one before Satomi was even born, and his wife had died giving birth to a stillborn child. She became a medic for the sole purpose to ensuring other women had their beloved returned to them. At least, as many of them as she could help return.

Now she was entrapped by a clan where emotions were unwanted weaknesses, apologetic words were nonexistent, and she was in danger from being killed for the mere blood in her veins. Not only that – but she was a woman, a member of the weaker sex and property of whomever owned her. She had no right to anything.

Brushing strands of her hair out of her eyes, Satomi breathed in through her mouth and then out. She must remain calm if she was to escape and return home to Tobirama. There was no existing 'if she could', but rather 'she would' return. Lying down would only prove her meek and malleable for whatever the Uchiha leader, Madara, had planned. If she was to be an aide to her clan, then she had to escape the Uchiha. There was no other alternative, no other hope, because she was not a Shinobi, nor was she a high-ranking medic in any sense. She was a girl, alone and friendless, in a foreign world so unlike her own. The Uchiha was the polar opposite to the Senju, and the differences were almost unforgiving.

She prayed to the Gods that her stay was only short, and not as long as Madara predicted. If it was, then the opportunity to escape would surely decline. The better the enemy knew her, the less chances she could get away.

* * *

Night gave way to day as the colours glowing in the sky changed. Pearly white clouds drifted above the stronghold, contrasting pleasantly with a pastel blue. The heavy hues of night had long since vanished when Satomi awoke, to find Izuna lounging in a chair in the corner of her room.

Wait, since when was the room hers? Did she now intend to stay?

"I see you are awake," remarked Izuna, knocking Satomi out of her thoughts. He was looking at her apathetically, no traces of amusement or smugness lurking in his black eyes.

"Yes, Izuna-sama. Good morning."

"Good morning indeed, Senju," She didn't miss the underlying tone as he said her clan's name. His expression became falsely positive. "My brother wishes to talk with you again. But not now," he added, as she shifted in her bed to get out. "No, later on today. Meanwhile, I have the ... _privilege_," Izuna looked like he was struggling for a moment, "to watch over you. How kind of him."

"Mm," Satomi didn't dare something anything else.

Izuna sighed and looked out of the window, in his hand was a kunai. He played with it absent-mindedly. "I wonder how they are faring ..." he muttered to himself. For a moment, Satomi wondered if Izuna meant his brother had gone to fight another war, but faint yells and cries awoke her to the idea that—most probably—they were training nearby somewhere. "Have you ever trained for battle?" Izuna asked suddenly.

Satomi blinked and hesitated to answer. "Err – n-no, not really."

Izuna's eyes hadn't left the window. "No, I do not suppose you would be. You do not have the physique." It was the fact that he had dismissed her so coolly, as though talking about a trivial little matter, that irked Satomi's temper.

Sniffing, she turned her head and glared at the other wall. Izuna may not have glanced at her, but he knew he had managed to annoy her – so he smirked. If he was stuck with that damn Senju's whore, then he was going to make it as much Hell for her as it was for him.

"Is something troubling you, Senju?"

Satomi pursed her lips in irritation. Once again Izuna asked himself what Tobirama found so attractive in this woman – she was demure, small and unpleasing. How could a woman like her satisfy any man at all?

"There is nothing on my mind, Izuna-sama, nothing at all."

Raising an eyebrow at the curt—and obviously strained—reply, Izuna muttered, "How very insightful," sarcastically under his breath. Satomi twitched amongst her bedcovers, but otherwise remained glowering solidly at the wall. Tiring of her quickly, Izuna soon turned back to the window and peered at two birds gliding through the air outside. Madara's favourite activity was falconry, but neither of the birds looked like the ones his brother kept. They must be wild, common too.

"You should get dressed," he called over to her suddenly. "If someone was to enter and see you still in your nightclothes with me present, people would start talking."

"Does your reputation mean that much to you?" bit out Satomi unthinkingly. When she realised what she said, she slapped her hands over her mouth and looked horrified at her bed sheets. Frozen in place, she waited for Izuna to snap at her, threaten her once more – do something. But instead he—

"I was thinking more about Tobirama and what he would think of you if he ever thought you had been bedded by another man," A wicked gleam lit his eyes as bright as a hellfire; his smirk sharpened by her response. "But if he is not the first reason to your mind, I can only wonder if you are truly in love with him like you claim."

Holding in her gasp, Satomi whirled around, out of her covers and crossed the room to glower at Izuna as close as she dared. "Tobirama is more honourable than you depict him to be! And he knows that if I am ever bedded by another—which Gods forbid!—that I would not _choose_ to be so!"

Izuna wore his smirk blatantly, staring unblinkingly into Satomi's eyes. All of a sudden, his eyes dyed scarlet and three tomoes spun lazily, hypnotising her. Genjutsu was a basic for any Uchiha Shinobi; it was one of their many battle fortes. Creating a dreamscape unique to the victim, on the other hand, was challenging. The only thing Izuna knew about the Senju woman was that she was Tobirama's whore; he knew nothing of her family (if she had one still) or life within the Senju clan other than that.

* * *

Watching the men train, battling each other with weapons, jutsus and cunning, Madara could not shake the ill-feeling that squirmed in his muscled abdomen. Perhaps it was a mistake to order Izuna to guard the Senju. His brother was hardly the most ... sympathetic, could he say? Izuna hated the Senju clan, as they had been bred to hate the Senju, and did not know that some Senju clansmen could be innocent of murdering their clansmen.

Glimpsing two birds fluttering in the sky, one chasing the other, Madara wondered exactly what Izuna could be doing to the woman. He would not be able to honestly admit that Izuna torturing her had not crossed his mind – because it had, and frequently so.

While the men were practising their kenjutsu, Madara summoned a hawk to check on Izuna and the Senju via the window. When the hawk returned to report its findings, Madara was perplexed. Why was Izuna carrying her unconscious body back to her bed? Had he cast a genjutsu on her to keep her quiet and peaceful? That was the most likely reason.

In the sky above him, the pursuing bird was gaining on the other.

* * *

Cups resting untouched on the low oak table in the middle of the room, both Hashirama and Tobirama entertained themselves with their private thoughts; both pondering on how to persuade the council of Elders that Satomi was valuable to the clan.

The only argument they had so far was that she was Tobirama's betrothed, although they had yet to announce their engagement officially, she had consented to marry him several days prior to her kidnapping. That had lead them to another problem, the most pressing one: why had she been kidnapped? There was no doubt in their minds, at first, that it was due to her connection to Tobirama that had tempted Madara to steal her away to spite him, but then when they received word of her exchange for refusing to defend the daimyo of the Earth Country, that theory went up in smoke.

"What are we going to do? If we are to make the deal, we would need the backing of the Elders, proof that she is valuable to the clan _and_ the support of the clan." Tobirama stated, his eyes hardened flints of burgundy. He faced his brother, who looked equally torn. "Not everyone knows Satomi, they only know _of_ her. The Elders are convinced I could do better and that her death would be of no consequence to anyone. I thought they respected Ryosei-san. Why are they not trying to rescue his daughter, if that is the case?"

"As did I think so, too," mumbled Hashirama, his head falling back to rest against the wooden wall behind him. "It seems not. She is his only surviving child, but they would rather condemn her to death than save her."

"Can you not ask the Uzumaki for assistance?"

Hashirama shook his head sadly. "No, Uzumaki-sama cannot become involved. Their clan is fighting the Sarutobi, and the Shimura after them. Gods help him if he is pitted against Sarutobi Sasuke."

"Well, providing that the Uzumaki are fighting the Sarutobi clan, I would say it is a pretty strong possibility that he will come across Sasuke on the battlefield, brother." Tobirama quipped irritably, frowning at the oak table in thought. "Now, we need to focus on Satomi—"

"Madara will not let her be killed, Tobirama, I have his word on that." Hashirama assured him, though unsmiling. "Madara will not turn back on his word."

"He is an Uchiha, part of a clan that believes a five-on-one fight is fair – or have you forgotten what happened to Itama?" retorted Tobirama snappishly, reaching for his cup to inhale the scented steam. "The Uchiha clan is full of darkness; mercy does not exist to them."

"Again, I question you: how can you be sure if all you have ever done is fight against the Uchiha, Tobirama?" challenged Hashirama, frowning. "Madara has lost brothers too. Every Uchiha Shinobi has lost someone dear to them, just like the Senju. We are all the same in this senseless war."

"We are not cursed!"

"Again with that?" snapped Hashirama, with a scowl that matched Tobirama's grimace. "The Uchiha are not born cursed to love too deeply, for Heaven's sake! Stop over-thinking things!"

"I am not over-thinking – I am telling you that the Curse of Hatred lurks in that clan because they love too dearly, too acutely are they attached, that when their beloved is killed, all they seek is revenge with their own sword! It is an endless cycle, brother!"

"I have had enough, Tobirama," steamed Hashirama, all traces of kindness washed away from his friendly face. "We will seek a truce of some kind and hopefully—when that happens—you can see for yourself that is there no curse." Hashirama sighed, allowing a silence to dawn upon them. His eyes never wavered from his brother's glower. Soon Tobirama looked away, his cup residing on the table again.

"Is Mito fighting the Sarutobi?"

Hashirama was thrown by the sudden, off-topic question, but answered nonetheless; "Err – yes, she is fighting alongside Hiromi. Those two seem to balance each other out."

Tobirama only nodded.

* * *

**I just wanted to say another big ****_thank you!_**** to **_Blink-Dream_**, **_d__ante 911_**, **_xGuiltyXGigglesx03 _**and**_ crazyuser_**! ;) Your reviews mean a lot! Thank you!**

**Another note to add: I might have to change the rating soon, but only because of adult themes. **

**Thank you once again! :) Ciao!**


	6. Chapter 6

| Chapter 6 |

Feathers drifted like snow in front of her, speckling her vision black against a whitewashed background. It was like she was staring at a white wall as the sky rained down long, soft black snow.

Then suddenly, from her left, shoot a spinning star. An agonised yell shattered the pleasant silence. The feathers cleared, and the horrendous sight of Tobirama lying injured before her filled Satomi to the brim with dread and livid fear. She screamed his name, tried to run to him, but he beckoned her to retreat with a fearsome look skulking in his eyes. Terror arose inside of her as she watched him struggle to stand.

Something cut through the air, with a quiet whistling sound, and red splashed across her body. On her face, on her hands, dripping into her eyes, was Tobirama's blood.

She screamed.

She screamed, and screamed. Her terror getting the best of her; her hands shaking uncontrollably and everywhere the blood touched became numb. Numb with guilt, with pain, as she watched Tobirama die in front of her ...

His ruby eyes glimmered like glass in the light, looking empty as they stared at her. She tried to move towards him, but found her body refusing to obey. She stood still, screaming hoarsely, and watched as her beloved Tobirama passed away. And she didn't help ... she couldn't help ... she couldn't help her own lover, she couldn't save him ...

"So this is what you fear most?" crowed a silky voice behind her ear. Then the scene dispersed.

She was lying on her bed, covers draped over her body, her hands either side of her hips and staring at the canopy of the bed. Her throat was dry and scratchy.

"I would not be surprised if half of the clan thought someone was being murdered in this room," Izuna continued, not even glancing at Satomi, but playing with the same kunai from earlier. "You scream as though you have witnessed a murder."

"Do you have no shame?" croaked Satomi roughly, clutching her throat.

Izuna stilled. "Do I ... no shame? These words depart a Senju's mouth ... as though your clan is innocent?" Satomi had merely blinked before Izuna was looming over her, his kunai positioned at her throat. "Your clan slaughtered my father! How dare you question my ignominy when your clan murders people of my blood as though it is nothing?"

"I did not mean that—!"

"I should have killed you that night," resumed Izuna, breaking Satomi off. "But no – my brother insists that you can be of use to us. I disagree. I cannot fathom how _you_ can be of use to our clan when we are superior to yours! We, the rightful sons and daughters of the Sage of Six Paths, have _no use for you_!"

"That is enough, Izuna."

As cutting as a gyrating shuriken, Madara's voice resounded around the chamber. His hair billowed slightly behind him as a chilling draft wafted into the room, mingling with the tension that lurked after the words spoken. Satomi's gasps of breaths could be heard, but nothing else. Madara stared hard at Izuna's back and Izuna, in turn, glowered at Satomi as though she was the one who had spoken against him. Finally, after several dragging minutes, Izuna moved the blade away from Satomi's throat. He still did not look at Madara.

"Will you speak with the Senju now?"

"Yes," answered Madara smoothly.

"Then I am no longer needed here." With that, he disappeared entirely. Madara had not moved from the doorway and Satomi was left to wonder how he had left. Was there a jutsu for teleporting one's self away to another place? Even with Izuna gone from the room, the tension did not evaporate. Madara stood, stock-still, in the doorway, his arms crossed over his broad chest.

"The genjutsu he cast," Madara started, staring unblinkingly at Satomi, who flinched and concentrated on her covers, "what did it show?"

"It was an illusion—"

"I know that," Madara cut in sharply, "Genjutsu and all its forms are illusions. They focus on the victim's fears, nightmares you could say. What did yours show?"

Satomi remained quiet.

Another moment passed in silence between them. Madara sighed, looked away from Satomi and strolled towards the window. "You will have to excuse his outburst," Madara started, his back facing Satomi. She glanced up and saw that, although he wore red armour similar to Hashirama, his back was unprotected. "My brother never recovered from the loss of our father."

"It is understandable."

"Do you believe so?"

Satomi's eyes met Madara's piercing stare and she looked down, clutching her wrist. "A father is an important figure in any child's life. Yours, surely, would be no different." she reasoned quietly.

Madara did not respond directly. He turned his head away and muttered, "Very well. That is a valid reason, I suppose." A pause occurred and Satomi peeked at him through her lashes: he stood tall with aristocratic arrogance, and not even his hair bristled in the slight draft now. Were all Uchiha Shinobi as prideful as him? "If you refuse to answer my question about the genjutsu, then at least answer me this – what is your relationship with Senju Tobirama?" The taste of the damned Senju's name was foul on his tongue. The taste worsened when a single sentence left her lips.

"He is my betrothed."

Madara sucked in his cheeks and exhaled through his nostrils. Had he known what stage they had entered, would he have still taken her as a hostage? His mother died that way; for the sake of her sons and husband, she left the safety of her home to meet with Death.

Without another word, he left Satomi to her thoughts.

* * *

Having dressed herself in a kimono hanging in the wardrobe, Satomi checked her appearance in the mirror. It wasn't as large as the one in her boudoir back at the Senju stronghold, but it was fairly well-seized. The kimono, however, was a different matter.

The sleeves were much too long and nearly covered her entire hands, while the neckline plunged far too low and showed more than a modest amount of cleavage. She didn't mind the length of the kimono as she didn't expect to be running at any point—currently, at least—but she didn't appreciate how loose the obi was. It simply would not tie properly and so she had to keep tying it up to stop it from unravelling!

Then a sudden knock at her door alarmed her.

"Err – wait, please!"

The door opened anyway and Madara strolled back in. Only he didn't enter from the door that Satomi had expected to open; he came in through the one connecting their bedchambers. He paused when she flushed scarlet, his eyes sweeping over the oversized kimono on her petite frame. "I see ..."

Satomi cleared her throat faintly. "Err – Madara-sama, I – um – please, could you ... ?"

"No," was the flat-toned answer.

Satomi bit the inside of her lip, one hand securing the obi and the other pulling the neckline up. "But I need to finish—"

"It can wait," Madara settled down by the low table and waited for her to join him. Squaring her shoulders, Satomi struggled to walk over to him with dignity and ended up tripping over the kimono's long hem. Reacting quickly, Madara managed to catch her before she hit the table. Sighing, he muttered sardonically, "Very graceful."

Satomi flushed again, her chin now touching her chest. "I – thank you, Madara-sama ..."

Madara sighed and lifted her up onto a seat opposite him. "No need to thank me. I have sworn to Hashirama to keep you out of harm's way, but I cannot keep to that agreement if you do not look after yourself in the first place."

Satomi bowed her head. "I apol—"

"Do not apologise, Senju!" snapped Madara, crossing his arms and staring at her menacingly. Satomi shrank under his intense gaze. "I have already told you it is a weakness!"

The air around them stiffened with apprehension. Satomi did not dare look up at him, not until he spoke that was, and then she glimpsed a softer expression on his face. It was almost as though he was weary.

"I have spoken with my Elders," he instigated delicately, wearing a solemn look. "I was not aware how serious your relationship with ... your betrothed was." He paused, closing his eyes and sighing. Reopening them, he ran a hand down his face and resumed, "They consider it best – as to not compromise the agreement between our clans – if Izuna is to be kept away from you. Instead he will be overseeing my duties, while I watch over you." He stopped abruptly and studied her expression for a reaction.

"Why is Izuna to be kept away from me? Is it because he could kill me?" asked Satomi softly. She didn't tear her eyes away from Madara, scared of the answer.

"Yes."

* * *

Evening approached with a grey haze cloaking the stronghold, twilight sidling across the houses below her window. The crescent moon hung steadily in the sky, watching. The glimmer of the stars was dull, and only a few could even be seen.

An old owl swooped down from the trees, edging its way towards a family of mice scuttling in the grass below. One mouse squeaked when it spotted the owl.

Clasped between her fingers was a tiny needle, thread pushed through its eye, weaving in and out of the kimono's hem. Satomi was dressed in her nightgown again. Sitting beside the window, waiting for night to reappear, Satomi had decided to use the time wisely and adjust several aspects of the kimono she had tried on earlier. The news of Izuna being forbade from coming near her still rolling around inside her head.

For a moment she drifted off into her thoughts. She hadn't expected it to happen. She knew Izuna disliked her immensely—he made it obvious—but surely his dislike for her would only intensify now he had been humiliated by her, forbade from coming near her, and have his own brother guard her from him. Prideful men were dangerous, both Tobirama and her father said that. Tobirama often associated prideful men with the Uchiha clan and them with revenge. There were many times she could recall him mentioning a curse of some sort, claiming the Uchiha became obsessed with hatred – hatred of anything that reminded them of love. So, at first, she had pitied them for it. But then her only surviving brother died – and she hated the Uchiha for taking him away.

But Hashirama had told her that everyone was susceptible to hatred in times of grief, and so that was how she had overcome it. But did any of the Uchiha know that? Or could they not stop grieving?

_"My brother never recovered from the loss of our father."_

Did that mean Izuna was grieving, and by means of lessening that grief he depicted the entirety of the Senju clan as his father's murderers? If so, then that was what she had done when Masayuki died. She could understand his pain – maybe she could help him, even.

But he would want to need it. Otherwise her help would amount to nothing, as he would not listen to her words nor heed her attempts of soothing his pain.

"Ouch!"

A lone miniscule droplet of crimson escaped the pinprick. Satomi stared at the blood that was set against the stalk whiteness of her skin as it trailed down her finger, almost mesmerised. How long had it been since she had seen her own blood? She couldn't even remember.

_"Blood is something we all share, something we treasure – the blood between parent and child, brother and sister, old and young. It is precious to all of us because it is our life force. To have blood is like having love. We cannot live without it – we would perish if we did not have love."_

Frequently, Hashirama spoke of love like a poet, retelling stories that he told his younger brothers as a child to Satomi as though she was a new addition to his collection of siblings. Not that he had such a collection anymore. After Itama's death, and Kawarama's death before him, Hashirama was valuing family and blood more and more. It was only a matter of time before he snapped. If Hashirama lost Tobirama, only the Gods knew what would happen ...

And so, she needed to escape. Soon, before something could happen to Tobirama ...

* * *

**I can't say much this time, but: thank you for your reviews! :) It makes me happy! ;) Ciao!**


	7. Chapter 7

| Chapter 7 |

Impatience coloured his face swiftly. His arms did not move from being strapped across his chest and he did not budge from the doorway, only fuelling Madara's irritation.

"Izuna, I—"

"I want to know _how_," Izuna stressed the word, his tone bitingly sharp, "the Elders discover my – err – _heated_ discussion with the Senju whore."

"They are engaged, so technically speaking she is not a whore, Izuna." Madara replied, knowing the lack of directness would irk Izuna as much as his little brother was vexing him. When Izuna opened his mouth to argue, Madara smirked slightly and said, "I told them of your so-called heated exchange. It has happened too many times and I will not allow you to be questioned because of a Senju—"

"Whore," added Izuna, disregarding Madara's inauspicious glower.

"—so you are not to come near her and will be overtaking my duties as the leader until further notice." Madara dragged a comb through his untameable locks, only for the comb to get stuck halfway down one side. He gritted his teeth. Izuna snickered quietly. "I will tell you something – instead of moping around, make yourself useful and get this comb out of my hair!"

From the doorway, Izuna scoffed at him. "Big Bro, you are the leader of one of the most powerful clans in the world – and you cannot get a comb out of your hair?"

"Do not sound so derisive, Izuna!" barked Madara, a tad flustered by his brother's words. Although he was attempting to untangle the comb, he was only adding knots to the mess. Finally, Madara huffed out a sigh and gave up. He went to stand up, but got pushed back down by Izuna.

"I cannot untangle it if you stand up. You are taller than me, remember?" he reasoned.

"Hn," Madara muttered, crossing his arms and sitting down.

Izuna smirked lightly. "So ... what are you going to do today, paperwork?"

"Unfortunately," grunted Madara, his eyes wandering over to the window and the view below. More than thirty families resided on the level beneath the top, where he and the other governing figures lived, and even more on the level below them. Tunnels within the hill of the stronghold transpired all around, to every level, and even to exits into the forest in case their citadel was successfully attacked – an event that had not happened so far. It had not happened because he had made sure that all those families were safe – and paperwork just _had_ to be one of the many things that kept them safe.

As Izuna's fingers flexed and recoiled, trying to disentangle the mass of hair from the fragile ivory comb, he continued wearing his—to Madara, at any rate—infuriating smirk. After a couple of moments, Izuna remarked, "It is like having an elder sister."

"Silence!"

A snigger seeped out from Izuna's throat. Madara bit down on the inside of his cheek, trying to not reproach his mischievous younger brother, but found the urge becoming increasingly tempting as that smirk widened and the wicked gleam in his eyes strengthened. Izuna knew he was getting under his skin, and he was enthralled by the kick!

"Tch. Stop smirking like that, Izuna. It hardly suits you." At that, Izuna couldn't hold in his laughter anymore.

* * *

Clicking the door shut after him, Madara briefly looked around the room before his eyes settled upon the sleeping figure of the woman. Her curtains were drawn, blocking out all daylight.

Her golden-orange hair was spiralling around her head, twisting around her shoulders and twirling around her face. Her fringe covered her eyes, so Madara couldn't see if her eyes were open or not. Directing his vision downwards to her chest, he observed the rise and fall as she breathed. Her breathing was rather unperturbed. He could safely assume that she was still asleep.

Settling himself by the table again, he waited patiently for several minutes. The gloomy lighting of the bedchamber made the morning seem night-like still. His thoughts were mainly focused on what paperwork needed to be completed first, like the weaponry supply and the food sources, but at the same time he listened carefully to any rustle of the bedclothes in case Satomi had awaken and wondered why he was seated in her private chambers before she had even woken.

A sharp intake of breath stopped his train of thought.

Looking over to the bed, he saw that Satomi was sat up, poker-straight, and staring unblinkingly at the wall in front of her. The way that her eyes were wider than normal showed that she was, at least, suffering from the after-effects of a nightmare.

He waited for the shock to ease before addressing her. "You are safe, if you are scared," He ignored how her head snapped round to stare at him and he declined meeting her fearful gaze. "Nothing is going to harm you while I am here."

Slowly—very slowly—his words sank in and her breathing recovered to its normal pace. Her chest stopped moving as much and the grip she held on her wrist slackened. Her bottom lip still trembled, however, almost like she was on the verge of tears. If there was one thing Madara could not stand, it was a person—be a man, woman or child—crying in front of him. Very rarely, they had something to cry about – most of the time, their lives were no different to his or that of anybody else, and so they should not cry. It was selfish.

But watching a woman shake and tremble, something so foreign to him, lessened his scorn for weeping. He heard watched countless people, of all ages and genders, break down at the death of a loved one or a piece of news equally heartbreaking; yet the sight of a Senju woman, an enemy, reflected the brokenness of reality and of the world as a whole.

For a moment memories of the dream he and Hashirama had dreamt came back to him. A village where no one was unhappy, everyone was safe – it had never seemed so helplessly far away before now.

"Was it a nightmare?" He tried to sound like he didn't care – growing attached to a prisoner was a lesser man's mistake, and he was more than a fledgling to war. But something in her eyes reminded him of himself when his mother died, the breakability he felt back then.

Very slightly, she jerked her head forwards.

The room simmered with mixed emotions bubbling between them. Satomi, as it was very well visible, was shaken and hesitant – left at a loss after her nightmare. Then Madara, a leader and a highly-trained Shinobi, remained apathetic-looking while observing Satomi's behaviours – the clasping of her wrist, the lines that appeared on her forehead as she concentrated on calming herself. Seeing her in such a state when his first impression of her as a solid and composed young woman only made him more curious – what could get under a Senju's skin from just a dream?

Madara looked away, out of the window again. "You should get dressed. It has long since passed sunrise."

He would not give her pity, even if she was a woman – she was still the enemy. She was entitled to no privileges because of her clan's name. She was a Senju, an enemy to the Uchiha, and she would be treated as one.

* * *

"Why did you bring me here, Madara-sama?"

He did not spare her a glance as he surveyed their surroundings: the field was large and the wall running along one entire side was high enough for anyone who was not a trained Shinobi couldn't jump over. It was the perfect place to test his assumptions.

"Run."

"Pardon?"

Out of nowhere a kunai flitted straight past her cheek. Her eyes widened; she looked at Madara as though realising how dangerous a foe he was for the first time. Quietly, he reasoned to himself that it probably _was_ the first time. "_Run_."

That time his warning seemed to work, for Satomi leapt into action and started sprinting away from him. Suppressing the urge to smirk, Madara merely trudged after her slowly, his Sharingan spinning in his eyes. No, she was no Shinobi. Tobirama must have been the one to bestow her with a tanto – he may have even taught her how to wield it. Hopefully that was so; otherwise he would only be squandering his time on a tedious task, which he knew he would only be questioned about later by the Elders.

"Cut your tongue according to your cloth," he murmured, watching as the flecks of light chakra shimmered in the soles of her feet.

Suddenly, Satomi ran headfirst into his chest as he chakra-jumped in front of her. "Oof!"

"Got you."

Satomi struggled against his tight grip on her upper arm, banging her tiny, scrunched-up fists against his chest. Madara watched her disinterestedly. "Let – go – of – me!" Still, his grip did not loosen. Satomi grit her teeth and aimed a hard kick to his shin; he hissed in pain, his red eyes narrowing down at her.

_Damn Senju._

He adjusted his right hand around her arm while his left snatched one of her fists. In retaliation, Satomi latched onto one of his hands with her mouth, chakra focused in her teeth to make her canines sharper and draw blood from Madara's hand. Masayuki had told her to do anything—bite, kick, scream—to get the enemy off her. Madara growled lowly as her teeth sank in, jerking his hand away from her and kicking her abdomen. She grunted and released his hand.

He scoffed. "You fight like an Inuzuka!" he snapped at her heatedly, his glower bearing down on her as she crouched defensively in front of him.

"And you fight without honour. What kind of a warning is 'run'?"

"It is an order," retorted Madara, "Surely you would not disobey Hashirama or Tobirama?"

"Of course not!"

"Then do not disobey me!" Madara glared acridly. His hand snaked round to his back, unlatching his gunbai and swinging it around to cause a strong gust of wind to batter Satomi. She brought her arms around in front of her protectively. Madara could have rolled his eyes and scoffed at her pathetic attempt to defend herself. At least she didn't call herself a Shinobi or a kunoichi.

As soon as the wind had dulled, Madara launched himself at her and booted her chest, throwing her further backwards. Satomi yelped when her back collided with hard ground. Madara didn't even raise an eyebrow: he needed to push her to her limits to assess her unreservedly. For one moment he allowed her a break as she clambered to her feet, looking slightly worn and unconfident. She licked her lips apprehensively as she studied his movements. Inwardly he smirked. It meant that she was beginning to fight back.

An unexpected glimmer flooded her eyes.

_Whoosh!_

Sniffing, a sweet floral smell wafted towards him from his left, carried by the wind. Utilising his Sharingan to read her next move, Madara spun round and blocked her sword attack with his gunbai. She was getting serious, then, if she was using weapons that she wasn't even carrying. Most probably, she knew some kind of summoning or sealing jutsu to conceal the sword – it may have even been on her body. He would have to investigate that if he was right.

"Your form has a lot left to be desired." Madara jeered, a spike of confidence shooting through his body. "Who taught you, Tobirama-_sama_?"

At the tone he used for '–_sama_', Satomi narrowed her eyes. Fear forgotten, she spat, "No, my father. And Tobirama has more respect from his enemies than you ever could dream of achieving!" In reply, Madara growled at her and threw her sword away before bringing his gunbai down towards her now defenceless form. Satomi squeaked in surprise, squeezing her eyes shut.

Just before he hit her, he stopped.

* * *

**Thanks** _crazyuser_**,** _Blink-Dream_ **and of course, the lovely GG! Your reviews mean so much to me! Did you like my little brotherly moment at the beginning, anyone?**


	8. Chapter 8

| Chapter 8 |

Hashirama placed the scroll in his hand down and looked at Toka. "You are certain of this information? I do not want to get his hopes up, only to crush them."

"I heard them with my own ears; I am certain, Hashirama-sama."

Nodding absent-mindedly, Hashirama dismissed Toka and watched her bow and retreat from his office, leaving him to his thoughts. Hopefully, if what Toka had informed him of was true, then Satomi's safety and rescue was guaranteed. If not, then he had to prepare Tobirama for another loss. But if it came to that, Hashirama had no idea how Tobirama would cope ...

What would change the council's mind so abruptly, though?

Sighing quietly, Hashirama rubbed his temples. Maybe he should have declined becoming clan leader – the job always gave him a headache.

The door slid open and Tobirama suddenly stepped in. He was wearing a grave expression. "I have just received word from the northern border. It seems like the Haruno clan were hired to invade again; more of them have been killed in the raid, but we lost ten of our own as well." Tobirama came to a halt in the middle of the room. "What is wrong?"

Hashirama didn't greet him with his usual exuberant welcome; no smile, no cheering, nothing. "You might want to sit down."

At once Tobirama became rigid with understanding. "Nothing has happened ... right?"

"I do not believe so," Hashirama stated plainly, his face showing his sympathy, "Satomi is safe at the moment. It is another matter, almost, I wish to discuss." Tobirama kneeled down to his brother's level and waited, sitting as motionless as a statue. Hashirama licked his bottom lip and then rubbed both of them together, fidgeting under Tobirama's intense gaze. "Firstly – can you stop that, please?"

"Stop what?"

"Staring at me like that. It makes me feel uncomfortable. You are staring at me as though you would rather eat me than talk to me."

Tobirama gave him a deadpan look. "So you are nervous, then. This does not look like this is going to be a good discussion." Hashirama hated it when Tobirama pointed out everything – just like he did then.

"Anyway," huffed Hashirama, now biting the inside of his lip. He shifted on the cushion he was sitting on. "How do I put this? Erm – well – Toka has informed me of a conversation the Elders were having – not that she was eavesdropping!" he added hurriedly, noticing Tobirama's face transform into a look of exasperation. "No, it was purely accidental! Anyway, moving on – she reported it back to me and I wanted to tell you before you heard it from anyone else. Erm ..."

Tobirama sighed. "What it is, Hashirama?" he muttered unenthusiastically, rubbing his forehead with his index and middle fingers.

"The Elders are considering bargaining with the Uchiha for Satomi's return," Hashirama blurted out before clapping a hand over his mouth. He stared at Tobirama, readying himself for reproachful remarks and criticism from his last surviving brother. None came.

"I know," was all Tobirama said.

Hashirama blinked a couple of times, unsure of whether he had heard correctly. "Err – pardon me? You _know_?"

Tobirama didn't even bat an eyelash at him. "Of course I would, I persuaded them to see sense." When Hashirama continued staring at him, he added on, "I promised them several things. The first is that our marriage will immediate, as soon as she is retrieved."

"And what about the second condition?"

"It does not matter now," Tobirama replied curtly, sidestepping the subject, "I know, and I have convinced them to bargain with the Uchiha clan."

Hashirama remained sceptical but said nothing. Eyes never straying from his brother, Hashirama nodded absent-mindedly and pulled out a blank scroll. Dipping his brush in the inkwell, Hashirama swept excess ink off and began writing, his focus now on the scroll.

Tobirama paused, watching his brother's hand. "May I ask you what you are doing? Have you now discovered a liking for Haiku?"

"You are being ludicrous," scoffed Hashirama lightly, not looking up from the roll of parchment. "I am sending a letter to Mito. It would be a shame if my younger brother married before me!"

Rolling his eyes, Tobirama sighed, leant back and crossed his arms, watching Hashirama concentrate on wording his letter right the first time. After all, Hashirama's flamboyancy often caught him making even the most standard of grammatical errors when he was in one of _those_ moods.

* * *

Depositing Satomi unceremoniously on the ground yet again, Madara suppressed a sigh that was bubbling up in his throat. He had—for once in his life, and only _once_—been wrong.

Senju Satomi had _no_ hidden skills.

She had very little knowledge outside of taijutsu (which was very basic knowledge) and kenjutsu. The single most exciting thing that had happened throughout their exercise was that Madara had pushed her to showing him her full speed, which was not particularly bad – but it was nothing outstanding in comparison to his usual opponents, like Hashirama for example. She was nothing in regards to him. So what did Tobirama see in her? It would only be logical that he would see an unyielding quality in her, something that stood out amongst the many women that seemed to overfill the Senju clan – they had women on the battlefield, for crying out loud!

He blocked yet another attack from her, punching her to one side where she fell in a heap of tangled limbs and cloths.

Alas, nothing.

Apparently, he was going to have to explain to the Elders why he had chosen to batter the Senju captive despite the no-harm policy that had been implemented upon her. Not that he was looking forward to that. It would be gruelling; anything that involved the Elders was gruelling.

Perhaps he should take up writing in his free time. Oh wait, he never had any. That was the Elders' purpose of living too – to annoy the Hell of the leader in order to shape him to their liking.

"Tch," Madara studied Satomi as she panted, hands grasping her knees, doubled-over, and squinting at him with just one eye open. "Are you done yet?"

Damn Uchiha.

"An honourable Shinobi never gives up!" declared Satomi, attempting to straighten up, but only managing to hunch over slightly.

"Yet a sensible one knows when they are defeated," derided Madara, exhaling tiredly as she charged at him unthinkingly again. One kick and she was flat on her back, coughing. "I will ask you again – _are you done yet?_" He peered down at her arrogantly. "Or are you a masochist, Senju-_chan_?"

Satomi flushed; from the lack of breath or his words, Madara wasn't sure. But she flushed nevertheless. Blush painted on her cheeks like that made her look younger, almost child-like. Even when he first met her, he did not think of her as a woman – wrapped by in navy silk and a red obi, she looked nothing like the typical buxom Senju women. Very vaguely, he pondered on the chances of her only being half-Senju. Her hair may not be red, but the colouring wasn't natural to the Senju clan and was closer to the Uzumaki.

"Are you a full bred Senju?"

The question caught her off-guard and she stared at him, bug-eyed, forgetting to breathe. "I – err – would not know for definite. My mother ..." She didn't need an ending; both of them understood what she meant without the words. Death occurred in all forms, even when giving the gift of Life.

* * *

The room felt strangely empty that night. She could not place a finger upon why.

Chilly winds were waving in from the east, signalling winter's soon reappearance. Snow would follow suit. Only Satomi detested the winter and all its cold bitterness that resembled the dying nature of the world. Winter was Death; it eradicated the flowers of summer, defiled the colours of autumn, but would give way to spring. Flowers would grow, reenergised and thriving better than before; trees and shrubs would no longer stand naked against the bitter winds. Satomi could not wait for winter to pass and for the spring to come again. Back home, at the Senju stronghold, magnolia trees swayed outside her boudoir window and a variety of plants dominated the garden, catered to by Hashirama normally.

Exhaling a sigh, Satomi slinked away from the window and crawled under her bedcovers. The sheets were cold and she shivered slightly. Nestling her body amongst the thick and heavy quilts, Satomi closed her eyes and prepared for sleep to consume her.

* * *

Madara opened the door a crack and peered into the room. Lying on her bed was the woman who he had stolen from Senju Tobirama, his own brother's rival. Her strange-coloured hair spiralling around her head like an enchanting halo, glimmering like fine silk in the moonlight.

His hand curled into a fist at his side as the urge once again emerged. How fragile she looked, tranquil and as though Life could not be sweeter. Were the Senju really that blessed with ignorance? Was the younger brother, even? Is this how the elder brother felt at the betrayal of his father when he handed everything over to the younger son, after the eldest had worked hardest and the longest? Ever since the younger son got what his elder brother deserved, the Uchiha had fought against the Senju and the Senju against the Uchiha – an age-old struggle. Could it not be solved now?

The Elders hardly ever gave an order – and never had they ordered the leader of the clan. But today, at the meeting this evening, had been the first time. If he followed through, he would appear weak and docile to the Elders. But if not, and they were right, the curse could be broken and the brothers could be square, even if it was centuries down the line.

But could he do it?

Throughout his life, he had been named many things. Murderer, life-miser, monster, demon ... he had even called himself such things. But he would always avoid killing the innocent if he could. He never condoned rape or the murder of infants and mothers who had nothing to do with war. He would not start for the sake of the Elders either. He could be a monster and a demon, a murderer and a life-miser, but he was neither a rapist nor a child-killer.

After the deaths of his mother, father and three younger brothers, he knew the fine lines between a true monster and a Shinobi doing his job. He could be classed as neither honourable nor a monster—and he knew that—but he also knew no other Shinobi could be classed as 'honourable' when they have the blood of children on their hands. Who even was honourable in this world plagued with war and hatred?

At times, he swore several clans revelled in this constant fighting, and the Uchiha was one of them. From their natural battle prowess to their blazing Sharingan, it was widely known that the Uchiha clan was built for war. War was in the blood of the Uchiha as well as the Senju.

After carefully opening the door, he crept into the room. The curtains were undrawn, like he always found them in the morning. He had wondered whether there was a reason for her leaving the curtains open and her body, tucked away under mere thin sheets, exposed to the night. Could she be imagining that she still in the Senju stronghold and so greeted sleep without unrest? Or was there another reason, some innate urging which convinced her to bathe in the moonlight in her slumber? Did she feel a connection with the moon, the Jubi itself, subconsciously? He had read in one of the decrepit scrolls in the ancient archives of such occurrences, there mere citizens who could call upon the demons without binding, by just sheer will alone.

In the pooling moonlight, her skin had a dim quality that resembled age-worn opals, while her eyelashes looked more prominent against the pink-tinged whiteness and orange-gold curls. If spotted in a fleeting glance, the spotter may have assumed she was dead; her chest barely rose under the quilts and her body did not move in the slightest bit.

Fingers skimming over her skin lightly, Madara mused about fulfilling the order. It would be the epitome of dishonourable, scandalous even – but not him.

No, the mission would not be completed.

After all, he did not pick unripe fruit from the tree.

* * *

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	9. Chapter 9

| Chapter 9 |

Morning sunlight gleamed off the mirror's surface, the light brokenly filtering into the boudoir. All the while, as the sun rose higher in the sky, the young man did not move from his corner. His thoughtful eyes did not waver from the bed where he had seen her, wrapped in pure white linen and sometimes simply without concealing her body from his eyes, lay waiting for him.

Swallowing the dry lump that scratched his throat, Senju Tobirama forced his face to remain unyielding – to the bittersweet memories, the angry thoughts, the severe pain ...

Senju Tobirama did not break easily. He was proud of that. He would not break for an Uchiha, not Izuna and definitely not Madara. He would _not_ yield.

_Drip._

"Damn it," were the two words which left his dried mouth, flung from his chapped lips. "Damn it." His voice got stronger as the fight to stay composed grew harder. Resistance was failing him.

_"You know, my father told me once that being a medic was the better choice, that having the basic skills was enough because determination would prevail anyway ... do you think that is true, Tobirama? Should I continue being a medic so I can help the other women, or should I try to pursue being a ninja? What do you think?"_

_"I think you should do as you please. You are not a child anymore, Satomi-chan."_

_"Oh!" She flustered, her eyes widening. Then suddenly she bowed lowly to him. "My apologises, Tobirama-kun, I did not mean to offend you by calling you—"_

_"It is fine," he interrupted her smoothly. "I do not mind your familiarity." His words made her flush again, and he thought for a moment there was something appealing about that blush that crawled onto her cheeks and the way she hesitated at his words._

Breathing in, he let the memory simmer on his mind, savouring each movement he could recall.

_Women were always in need of assurance, _his father had told him once_. Give them enough compliments and you will get on perfectly. It is all about taming, like first learning to discipline yourself. The man must be the strong one in the family, otherwise everything falls apart._

But his father was wrong.

The man wasn't the strongest and the woman wasn't the kink in the armour, like his father had recounted to all four of them at the time. Without the woman, the man is liable to become cold and detached. He is liable to do so many things wrong while thinking them to be right, that he no longer understands who he is but becomes another man altogether. And that was what happened to his father, after their mother committed suicide. Of course, the word isn't spoken aloud – it was tabooed, even nowadays it was. But they all knew – the three of them. After Kawarama's death, their mother dreaded waiting at home and hearing which son she had lost next. She couldn't stand the thought of her children dying before her. And he _lied_ about it.

The air suddenly became denser, heavy like the burden that had haunted him since childhood. His mother—the woman he loved and would have given his own life to protect—was buried in the rotting earth because of this corrupt world and its vindictive wars.

Surely, as there stood the Shinobi code, people would think of obeying it? Not just for the protection of themselves, but also for their beloved ones and their honour. Or was honour passé now?

Tobirama scoffed acridly.

Honour had long since been forgotten by the men and women of the era. The deaths of thousands of children proved enough as evidence.

* * *

Tugging at her hair, Izuna watched, grinning in a rather sadistic manner, as she gasped and jerked upwards into a sitting position. At first she didn't notice him, but when she did, she froze mid-breath.

"W-what—?"

Slapping a hand over her mouth, Izuna then glanced over his shoulder at the door in the opposite wall. If this was going to work, then she had to be silent. If Madara heard even the faintest of noises, there was no doubt he would come in to investigate. Moreover, that was not a scenario Izuna desired.

Tomoes spinning lazily while Satomi stared, hypnotised, Izuna placed her under genjutsu and watched her fall into a senseless slumber. Peeking at the door once more, he picked her up, dragging the heavy covers off her body, and snuck over to the window. Opening it, he peered down and then turned back to the room. The sheets on the bed would do.

When the sheets were hanging limply out of the window, Izuna turned back and faced the door that led into the hallway. It was partly open. He hadn't left it open.

"Put her down and go back to bed."

Snapping his attention on to the seething form of his older brother, Izuna steeled himself. "I would usually listen to you, brother, but I will not. I will not let you defile yourself and your integrity for the sake of the Elders."

"Izuna, the Elders demanded that I take her tonight. Are you aware of that, are you not?"

Izuna snapped his jaw shut, tightened his jaw muscles and then wrenched his teeth apart. "So you did it? Why?" He scoffed angrily. "You are worth more than a _Senju_ – the filth they carry – Brother, why would you—?"

"Did I say what _I_ did? I only informed you of when the Elders wanted it carried out." Madara interrupted him smoothly. "I have no interest in taking a woman unwillingly nor dishonouring the Senju clan's second-in-command." Madara stepped closer to him. "You can put her down; your shoulder will be filthy by tomorrow morning, you know." His tone was now conversational. "Anyway, I have just recently received word from the Senju clan's Elders."

"Are they still refusing to collect their dirt from us?" Izuna muttered scornfully, flinging Satomi onto the bed uncaringly. Madara's eyes lingered on Satomi's body to see if she would react: she did not stir at all.

"They are considering a bargain for her safe return," Madara corrected him, his eyes darkening. "Apparently, Tobirama had already laid his claim on her." The meaningful look Madara sent Izuna made him sneer distastefully.

"What does he see in her?" jeered Izuna, casting Satomi a hateful glower as though her very presence was affronting to him. "She is _pathetic_!"

Madara cast Satomi one last glance before gesturing for Izuna to come into his bedchamber so they could talk privately, without risking her waking up and hearing about the bargain. "Come in here, I want to tell you a few other things as well, Izuna."

* * *

Ever since she awoke this morning, a sense of hazy drowsiness that stalked her and whenever she tried to focus on small fine details, like the text of the scroll she was attempting to write, the black and white blurred into one smear. Huffing, she placed her brush down and closed her eyes, rubbing her temples. Why did she feel so ... ugh, what could she call it? She simply felt ... flu-ish. It was like she was ill. But that wasn't the only thing. Over the last week or so, she could felt oddly cumbersome and even one morning she had felt the urge to vomit. Very briefly, Tobirama's words echoed in her mind.

_"Rest regularly until the illness goes away. If it pursues for another week, then I will take you to one of the superior medics."_

One of the superior medics ... it was the dream of any medic to reach that level, to no longer be recognised as a common medic who specialised in diagnosing illnesses, healing wounds and conducting life-saving surgeries, but to also be able to merely_ touch_ the patient's body and know what was wrong. Oh, how Satomi had dreamt of joining their ranks and being recognised – just like every other man and woman in her trade.

_Knock, knock._

"Erm – who is it?"

The door clicked open and Tobirama appeared in her boudoir doorway. He rested against the wooden frame, arms crossed in their usual manner. "How are you feeling today?"

"No better than before," she replied earnestly, another hot flush washing over her body. Satomi clasped the table to stabilise herself, feeling unsteady simply sitting down. In a flash, Tobirama was beside her and hauling her up. "What are you ... ?"

"There is a superior medic waiting in the west wing of the hospital ward, in a private room. I asked him to see you for an examination." Tobirama told her firmly, his decisive tone telling her that there was no room for argument against him.

Still, Satomi thought of giving it a try. "But I feel—"

Tobirama gave her a hard look and she automatically yielded, intimidated by his intensified stare and pursed lips. Defeated, Satomi ducked her head.

Neither of them expected the examination to reveal to them what it did: the shock had even rendered Tobirama speechless. The superior medic was even fazed by the results, momentarily giving Tobirama a look of disbelief as though the second-in-command had been caught doing something taboo – which he kind of had. Coughing to cover his disbelief (after a severe look from Tobirama), the medic told them that it would be in their best interests to marry shortly and quietly.

* * *

"Powerlessness and silence go together[1]," came a drawling voice from her far-right. Blinking distractedly, Satomi turned her head round to glimpse Madara.

"Is that right, Madara-sama?" croaked Satomi.

He raised an eyebrow but said nothing. Strolling to the window, he turned his back to her and clasped his hands together behind his back – he stood in what Satomi called his 'usual position', like an emperor overlooking his fortress. Several minutes passed in silence with Madara watching the landscape as Satomi dwelled on her memories, her hand absently caressing her lower torso. In the glass of the window, Madara watched her hand calculatingly.

The surface of her abdomen was rather flat, although the curve of her breasts had to be excluded as all women had shaped chests. So could the claims in the Senju's letter be false? They would be running a high risk, though, because even if they were correct in their assumptions, how would they know that the Uchiha would not poison her to prevent future Shinobis emerging from the Senju clan? Unless there were Elders who wanted the death of Satomi to come. But the risk with that was equally as severe – the planned death of their second-in-command's lover, surely they knew better than that? Although, if Izuna was correct, they could possibly be planning to blame the Uchiha.

Madara sighed.

"Is something wrong?"

The soft cooing voice called him from behind and Madara realised that he had momentarily forgotten his captive. Half-inclining his head to look at her from the corner of his eye, he raised an eyebrow slightly. "What would give you that impression?"

Satomi remained unfazed, used to the question as Tobirama had said it to her so many times before. "You look like you are in thought. Something must be troubling you. You do not usually look like that."

"How you would know that for certain?"

Madara could have sworn half a smile had formed on her mouth before swiftly flitting away. "You have been guarding me for quite a while, Madara-sama. I have grown accustomed to your usual stoic expression, if I am allowed to call it that." She bowed her head at the end.

"Hn."

Eyes closed, Satomi smiled lightly to herself. _And your one-syllable answers_, she added on mentally. She did not date speak it in case her words offended him. From the time they had fought against each other, Satomi had been wary of him – he was an incredible opponent, and she strongly suspected that he was holding back on her. If that was the case, then escaping the Uchiha stronghold was not the least of her problems – he would be, instead.

Madara turned away to the window. "Never call my face stoic again, Senju. Emotions worn casually are less appreciable than emotions that are controlled and displayed accordingly."

"Of course, Madara-sama."

* * *

[1] Quote from Margaret Atwood

* * *

**A great big _thank you!_ to all of those who reviewed! I'm sorry I don't have much time to say more, but it does mean a lot! So thank you very, very much!**

**Ciao! ~S.L.**


	10. Chapter 10

| Chapter 10 |

"You cannot buy forgiveness, you know."

"I am aware," Hashirama's shoulders slumped, even though his armour had been long since removed from his body. He exhaled a deep sigh. Tobirama watched him in his melancholy. "I feel so ... helpless ... like it is my first time in battle after discovering who Madara really was ... I never thought I would feel this way again."

Tobirama's posture tensed at the name of the Uchiha, but Hashirama did not notice. Swallowing the lump in his throat and containing his emotions, he said, "Toka will be fine, the superior medic said so. She would not want her leader to blame himself for the enemy's attack. You know that."

"But—"

"You cannot buy forgiveness," Tobirama repeated, adding on, "But you can give condolences and sincere apologies. No one can do that better than you, no?"

"You do not have to sound so patronising, Tobirama!"

"I am not the one wallowing in self-pity and misplaced misery." Tobirama snapped, pushing away from the wall he was leaning against. He glowered down at Hashirama as he sat hunched over the low desk. "Toka said so herself that she would lay her life down for her leader – did you not hear that?"

"Yes, I—"

"The attack was a low, shameful tactic of the enemy and should he have succeeded, I doubt that I would have the chance to be talking to you right now!" Tobirama cut in, over the top of Hashirama's voice. Hashirama fell uncharacteristically silent, looking staggered. "Toka may be critically injured, but she will heal! You, on the other hand, had you taken that attack ... you may not even be here right now." Tobirama glowered at him with such intensity and emotion, Hashirama could not look away in fear of discouraging Tobirama from showing _his_ emotions for once. "My last brother ... you are my last brother ... if _you_ die ..."

Hashirama bit the inside of his bottom lip guiltily. "I am so sorry, little brother. Really, I am."

Tobirama continued staring at him, the emotions ebbing away slowly as control regained former ground. "Whatever happens from hereon, promise me one thing."

Hashirama nodded in consent.

"Do not die first."

* * *

Outside, hanging desolately amongst the thinning clouds, the sun remained dim and weak in comparison to the striking cerulean of the sky.

Madara observed the sky coolly, his mind reeling from the admission of Senju Tobirama's letter. Engaged ... carrying his bastard child ... at least, he mused inwardly, he did not carry out the mission the Elders had set him. Though he could not pretend it was for Tobirama or even Hashirama's sake, but solely because he refused to look malleable for the Elders. He was not their puppet; they did not rule over him.

Right now, he supposed she was bathing. He had a tub brought into her bedchamber for her to do so, after all, she had not been allowed to leave the room since he had assigned her there. Meals were brought to him and he brought them to her; whether she ate them or not remained in her control.

A loud, sudden _crash!_ came from next door.

Unprepared for such a noise, Madara unthinkingly grabbed his blade and stormed into Satomi's chamber. He rushed straight in, despite the surprised scream from Satomi, and slowly—ridiculously slowly—everything fell into place. There was no emergency. There was no enemy in the room. There was, however, a rather compromising position now. Very slowly, Madara awoke to the fact that he had—for once—overreacted; Satomi had merely slipped as she got out of the bath, presumably tipped the bath over and henceforth was shivering on the floor, trying to cover every inch of her exposed flesh from his Sharingan-bright eyes. Again, Madara seemingly found himself nearly intoxicated by the blush that seemed to always settle on her cheekbones.

"Err – erm – g-get out!"

As quick as a cheetah, Madara fled from the room, his door slamming shut after him. Back against the oaken frame, Madara didn't blink nor did his Sharingan fade from his eyes. He had just fled ... for the first time in his life, he had run _away_ ... what in the Gods' names had happened to him?

Being against the door, he could hear Satomi shuffling on the other side. Inside his mind he could imagine her flustering even though he had left, wondering why he had responded so quickly but then recalling the truce with Hashirama. Maybe she was wondering if he was thinking of her right now, on the other side of the door? Would she wonder, though? She was Senju and undoubtedly raised to believe the Uchiha were as evil as so many clans guessed them to be. Would she be like Hashirama and desire to learn more about him and his clansmen, or would she follow Tobirama's outlook? Tobirama was her betrothed, her lover and her unborn child's father—(Madara felt sickened to think of her having _that_ kind of intimacy with that damn rat)—surely she would follow his example? Maybe that was why they were lovers – their shared beliefs.

Or it could simply be a case of the Senju lying to get her back. After all, how many men had done such a stunt before now? Tobirama was a man, despite Madara's prejudice him, so he would only desire Satomi's safe return, right? Maybe it was the only way he could convince the Senju Elders.

A small _knock, knock_ resounded directly behind him. At first he tensed and then forced his entire posture to relax. What was he concerned about, exactly?

... Precisely.

"Are you decent?"

"Err –" Satomi's voice sounded unfocused, distracted. Madara questioned whether his question had taken her aback. He could even picture her expression: eyes wider than normal, blinking twice as much as normal, lips slightly parted, maybe even a flush creeping over her cheeks ... "Yes, Madara-sama."

Creaking the door open to reveal a fully-clothed Senju Satomi, who indeed had a blush coating her cheekbones, Madara waited for her to say something. Hesitating at first, Satomi eventually did; "I regret—" Madara's eyes narrowed warningly, but Satomi's gaze was fixed onto the ground at her feet. "—shouting at you in that manner and I wish to express my – _regrets_ – to you."

"This better not be an apology."

"Of course not, Madara-sama."

Noting at her tone sounded rather flat instead of sincere, Madara decided to push her slightly. He leaned down, close to her ear, and whispered, "How sure are you, Senju?"

He could see her suppressing a shiver, but not quite managing to control her body. A slight quiver of her kimono proved that to him. "I am ... as certain as usual, Madara-sama."

Madara could not control the urge to smirk at her hesitation. She was very obviously not and did not even put up a good charade of acting as though she was not intimidated or nervous of his proximity. But she held her ground, marking her subtle defiance of him while remaining respectful. He may have underestimated her.

"May I ask something of you?"

The question, to Madara's ears, sounded carefully constructed and he wondered if she had been planning to ask this question for a while – had she been waiting for a moment of weakness?

"That depends on what you are asking."

She did not miss the calculating look he sent her. She clutched her wrist again. "Soon—very soon—I will be in need of some more ... erm, appropriate attire." She licked her bottom lip, not sure how to phrase it or even she should at all. What if the Uchiha used it against Tobirama?

"If this concerns your pregnancy, you needn't worry." Madara doubted he would ever forget the stunned look he received from her, a look of absolute fear mingled with panic. "I am aware of the situation."

"Err ..."

He raised a questioning eyebrow at her expectantly, as though expecting her to retort. She did said nothing and stared at the floor still.

* * *

The covers felt cold under her fingertips. Pausing to glance at the window, her thoughts drifted to Tobirama and her heart ached in yearning. How long had it been since she had last seen him? Would she be returned soon, and would they be wedded before the birth? Should they be, which she hoped, then they would be able to declare their child legitimate. If not, there was no point in returning to the Senju clan. Whores weren't wanted anywhere but in brothels.

To be honest, she hadn't known what intimacy like that could have led to at the time. She had merely thought that everything was an action of love, of affection. She had never intended to create a life that would only experience pain in this life.

How had Madara known? She wasn't suffering from morning sickness, nor was she suffering from anything else. A medic hadn't examined her in her sleep, right?

Fatigue wore her mind down, slowing all processes and disturbing her focus. Even though she saw the objects and furnishings in the room, she didn't absorb the details – she didn't differentiate between the gloomy colours, whether something was hard or soft. All she could think of was the fact that Madara now knew. The leader of the Uchiha clan—the Senju's sworn enemies—knew about her baby. And she didn't know _how_.

What he could do, knowing that information, terrified her. There was now no other alternative: she had to escape, run back to the Senju clan without any assistance.

The dangers, should she be caught, were simple – she would die on the spot. The Uchiha was infamous for its merciless attitude, cutthroat methods and battle prowess. The odds were against her, and she knew she was as good as dead. But she had to try.

She would rather die than live knowing that she burdened Tobirama to point his own death could be just around the corner.

Visions of black feathers and blood echoed in her tired mind, and she shivered at the memory.

Heading towards the wardrobe, she pulled open the door and rummaged through the garments, finding a short navy yukata. Seeing as it was the best choice, there was no option but to use it. Satomi rolled her shoulders back, demanding herself to calm down, and shrugged off her kimono. The dark robe pooled around her ankles, crumpled on the floor. As she shoved her arm through one of the sleeves, she caught sight of herself in the mirror. Tresses of orange-gold hair, curling down to her breasts, contrasting starkly to the dark fabric; she would stick out like a sore thumb. In the mirror she caught sight of the dark cloth poking out of the bottom drawer of the wardrobe. An idea suddenly came to her mind.

Grabbing the cloth, she tore a quarter off the bottom and placed it on the foot of the bed. Then she wrapped the larger piece of material around her head, tucking in every strand of hair possible. Once that was done and she couldn't see any stray curls, she picked up the torn piece of cloth and wrapped it around her mouth, covering her nose as well.

It wasn't impossible for there to be a kunoichi in the Uchiha clan, was it?

Then it came on. The rush of nerves mixed with adrenalin, coursing through her body and sparking wild ideas in her mind. What if she was caught? What if she got lost in the woods? What if, what if ...

Would she be killed for attempting to escape?

Taking one last look around the room, her mind buzzing, Satomi squared her shoulders and then looked to the window and the night sky beyond the glass. A few more moments and she would be running back home, to Tobirama and her clan. She would have escaped imprisonment. A smile twitched her lips. The anticipation of returning home was too hard to fully suppress; she had missed the Senju stronghold so much, it would come as an immense relief to be safe again.

Glancing at Madara's door, she waited for a minute.

Lifting her right hand and placing it on her left wrist, she lightly pressed a meagre amount of chakra into the concealed seal. A few seconds passed without change. Then a small, thin tanto magically appeared in her right hand. Her smile faded and she became serious. As she turned the tanto over, it flashed dimly in the nightlight.

Here goes nothing.

* * *

**I just wanted to say a big, big ****_thank you!_**** to **_Blink-Dream_ **and **_xGuiltyXGigglesx03_** for your reviews! Thank you! **

**~ Ciao!**


	11. Chapter 11

| Chapter 11 |

Owls swooped low in the darkness, intimidating squeaking rodents and scuttling beetles. She had even come across a pair of owls fighting over a half-dead vole that was twitching on the ground below them. Foxes roamed the shadows, their golden eyes glinting like stars in the dark skies. Their high calls piercing through the eerie silence of the woods. All the animals she had heard about in her childhood, animals that she had never seen with her own eyes, were suddenly surrounding her – and it was putting her on edge.

Of course, she couldn't slow down. If she slowed down, she might be caught – _killed_, even. And she was not going to let that happen to her. She was going to return home, regardless of what clan was after her and how many Shinobis they had!

The crunching of twigs, the light rustling of grass and the faint jingling of the leaves heightened her nervousness. She had no real Shinobi training – she could not tell if she was being followed!

_Pant, pant, pant. Pant, pant, pant._

_Thump, thump, thump. Thump, thump, thump._

The drumming of her heart rivaled her gasps of breath; she couldn't think properly without either of the two interfering. Adrenalin was still rushing through her veins, feeding her energy temporarily and she was dreading to see what she would be like when it ended. _If_ she lived that long, she should say.

Tiring from physical and mental fatigue, Satomi dropped down beside a grand oak tree. Tucking herself away in between the powerful roots, she bowed her head between her legs and breathed heavily. There was a searing stitch in her side and her feet were throbbing painfully. She shivered. The yukata wasn't very warm as it was designed for domestic dress more than survival purposes. Swallowing a lump in her throat, Satomi shivered again. The adrenalin was wearing off and she was left more afraid than she thought she would be.

* * *

The morning sun broke through the canopy of tree branches and leaves, scattering around the forest floor. Dirt was smeared across her feet and calves while leaves had nestled around her during the night. Her head was tilted at an awkward angle. When she woke up, her neck was sore and stiff, as were her shoulders that rubbed against the bark.

"Do not even think of moving, Senju."

At once she tensed and snapped her attention onto the towering frame of a Sharingan-wielding Uchiha Madara, his hair billowing in the breeze ominously. Instantly her breath caught in her throat. She gulped down air in an attempt to breathe. "Please …" All three tomoes started spinning menacingly and Satomi squeezed her eyes shut, tears glistening in the corners. "I just want to return home!"

A cold-skinned hand grabbed her chin roughly. "Open your eyes," commanded Madara. She didn't obey him. "I said, open your eyes."

"No."

He jerked her head sideways in attempt to shock her enough to involuntarily open her eyes; she squeezed them tighter together. "I will not be ignored. I have warned you of that before. Open your eyes, Senju!" bit out Madara impatiently, his grip tightening and making Satomi wince. She tried to back further into the tree, away from him, but to no avail.

"Please …"

"Open your eyes and look at me!"

"Please, I—!"

"I will count to three. One …"

"Please, Madara-sama, I cannot—!"

"… Two …"

"Please listen—!"

"Three."

"_Please!_" screeched Satomi, tears streaking down her cheeks. Her hands became buried in the holes of Madara's armour, her fingernails scratching against his chest through the black undershirt he wore beneath the red metal plates. He didn't retract his hand. Satomi sank her fingers deeper into his armour. "Please, I do not want to go back. I want to go home."

"You know I cannot allow that."

Satomi released a dry sob and for a moment, Madara hesitated. He let go of her chin and her face sank into her knees. He merely watched her as he straightened up, focusing on the pattern of the wood instead of the Senju woman by his feet.

"Please … for me."

"… No."

* * *

Flames licked at the bark of the log as they sat in silence. They had been travelling for most of the day, seeing as Madara had taken half of the night to hunt Satomi down, even going into daybreak hours.

Satomi curled up into a ball and stared at the spiralling flames. Her eyes glowed a peculiar yellow in the firelight. Her mouth was covered by her little fists, her knees tucked against her chest and her thighs clamped together: she resembled a mouse cowering in front of a cat. For the time they had been travelling she had not uttered a word. No little squeak to tell him whether she was angry or sad—although he could guess, of course—thus the meek tangle of limbs at the front of the fire.

Night had fallen without much complaint. In fact, Madara personally welcomed the night, although he was sure that Satomi may attempt to escape again. The image of her sobbing, pleading to be returned home, ventured into his mind's eye and he swiftly squashed the thought of granting her request. She was a prisoner and would be treated like one.

Unwrapping the bundle of fabrics that had been tied to his back, Madara hurled one of the long, scratchy materials at her. She flinched upon impact.

"You know, I once said I would never harm you." He called over to her condescendingly, "I have not relinquished that promise."

"Is that before or after you attacked me and forced me into a battle?"

Madara glowered at her through narrowed Sharingan eyes. "I would not recommend challenging me, Senju. For your own sake."

Satomi sucked in a breath and surveyed him carefully.

Madara looked away, towards the silvery light of the moon, and continued, "We will rest for a short while and then resume walking. Do not attempt to escape or else I will personally see to it that you no longer hold the right of privacy, even from me. Is that understood?"

Satomi cast him a dark look but said nothing. He turned back to her and her glare dropped.

"I expect an answer."

"Yes, Madara-sama." Satomi said slowly, her eyes falling back to the fire.

_His eyes lingered on hers, his soft gaze making her blush ... she smiled in silent pleasure. He returned the look with a stroke of the back of his hand on her cheek._

* * *

The rough shaking of her shoulder awoke her from her memories. Blinking blurrily, Satomi squinted into the darkness and saw the hazy outline of a man towering above her. As the figure became more defined and details painted his face, Satomi became aware that his mouth was moving.

"Get up ... leaving ... return by ... understand ... ?"

"Pardon?" breathed Satomi, her eyes lolling backwards slightly as his Sharingan glared at her brightly. Embers and ash resided where the fire had once been prominent.

"Get up. We are the leaving the area now."

He moved away and Satomi watched him through half-opened eyes, his back darkening as he skulked into the shadows. In an instant, she summoned chakra to her feet, leapt up and bolted in the opposite direction. In an instant, she flew into Madara's strong, armour-plated chest, his hands gripped her upper arms.

"Let go of me!"

"I strictly told you—!"

"No, no!" shrieked Satomi, flailing her arms unsuccessfully as Madara's grip tightened and made her wince. "Aah!" she cried out in pain.

Madara shook her roughly. "Do not disobey me! I will kill you if you do that again!"

"You promised Hashirama-sama—!"

Madara plucked her away from the ground and held her in mid-air; Satomi stilled, fear widening her eyes and her mouth gaping into a perfect 'O'. He glared up at her. "You think a promise will stop me from hurting you?" he sneered, "The Elders told me to take you to spite your so-called lover. I chose not to due to my own reasons, not because of a meaningless _promise _to your leader. I have chosen you over my own brother's reputation. I have not permitted you to be harmed because I have my own plans for you." He pulled her closer, whispering in her ear, "Your betrothed has left you to my mercy. He has not once indicated that he wanted you back. He may even be seeking comfort in another woman's arms as we speak."

"No, no!" Satomi cried, resting her hands on Madara's breast plate. "He would not do that! He loves me!"

"A man can claims that he loves someone, but who would he choose to die; his lover or himself?" Madara taunted arrogantly. "Should I ever claim a woman, I would ensure that she only ever carried my claim."

"I am carrying his child—" choked Satomi, tears beginning to dribble down her cheeks.

Madara remained indifferent. "A whore can carry another man's child. She opens her legs too easily, as I suppose Tobirama thinks you do."

Satomi gasped, acting as though he had just slapped her.

Madara lowered her and she fell to her knees. As his words reeled in her mind, he merely watched her appraisingly. His Sharingan suddenly dimmed into a fathomless onyx-black. "Get up. We are leaving."

Intimidated by his eyes and threatening tone, Satomi obeyed and stumbled to her feet. Before she had even properly straightened up, Madara scooped her up and threw her over his shoulder. Satomi yelped, clinging to whatever she could (which included several of his long hairs, although he didn't flinch like she thought he would). "M-Madara-sama—!"

Madara's reply was a swift as a bird taking flight. "I refuse to waste any more time."

* * *

**A big thanks to GG,**_ Blink-Dream_ **and the **Guest** who reviewed! Thank you so much! I hope everyone likes this one!**


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